Paternal Instincts
by Jlbrew28
Summary: Bones' young new assistant has a secret...he is Booth's son. Warning: spanking.
1. The New Assistant

**Bones**

"**Paternal Instincts"**

**Summary: **Bones' young new assistant has a secret…he is Booth's son.

**Author's Note(s): **Takes place after the whole "Widow's Son" storyline, so Zack is gone.

**Warning: **This story _will_ contain spanking of a teenager.

_**Disclaimer**_**: **The only character I own is Seth. Booth, Bones, and the Squints I don't own.

Chapter One: The New Assistant

FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth walked into the Jeffersonian Institute whistling to himself.

He was on his way to visit his partner, forensic scientist Dr. Temperance Brennan—a.k.a. 'Bones'.

"Booth," a voice behind him spoke, "what brings you here?"

Glancing back over his shoulder he saw that it was Lance Sweets—the twenty-two year old psychiatrist that helped him and Bones sometimes.

"Do I need a reason to come here?" he asked the kid, once he'd caught up with him.

"No, I guess not," Sweets said, "but you usually do."

"Well, Bones called and told me to get my butt over here," Booth explained, "so I came."

"Interesting," Sweets, who enjoyed trying to solve the mystery that was Booth and 'Bones', commented. "Dr. Brennan actually said 'get your butt over here'?"

He found that a little hard to believe, knowing the forensic scientist's personality—or lack thereof—as he did.

"Well, no," Booth said, "of course not. It was more like 'Booth, could you please come down to the lab sometime today'. But I could tell by her tone of voice she wanted me to get my butt down here right away."

"Interesting," Sweets said again. "Actually, she asked me to come down here, too."

"She did?" Booth blinked. "I wonder why?"

"I guess we'll find out," Sweets said, smirking. "Let's go, dude."

Booth rolled his eyes, and followed after him.

The young man might be a brilliant shrink, but in a lot ways he was still just a kid—who liked to play with people minds.

They entered the lab to find Brennan examining the skeletal remains of a body.

This wasn't so unusual, given that was her job after all…what _was_ usual was the person helping her.

He was quite obviously a teenager with dark hair and eyes, dressed in all in black—black t-shirt, black jeans, black boots—except for the white lab coat he wore.

His dark hair was spiked and he wore a spiked dog collar around his neck.

He had a silver earring pierced through the top of each ear, plus a nose ring.

"Whoa," Sweets said, smiling. "He is, like, totally, cool."

"Uh, Bones," Booth said, raising an eyebrow his partner, "who's the kid?"

Dr. Brennan looked up at them and so did the boy beside her.

"Oh, you're both here," she said, still holding a femur bone from the skeleton. "Booth, Sweets, this is my new assistant—Seth Carter."

She looked at the boy beside her.

"Seth, this is Dr. Lance Sweets and my partner, FBI Special Agent Booth."

"Nice to meet you, dude," Sweets said, shaking his hand. "You must be totally stoked to be working with Dr. Brennan, huh?"

"It's an honor," Seth told him, grinning at Brennan. "I was very excited to get her call."

Booth snorted. The kid was practically drooling…

"And I thought Zack was young," he commented. "How old are you, Seth?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Brennan asked, frowning.

Seth, however, just smiled and pushed his black-framed glasses back into place on his nose.

"Its okay, Dr. Brennan, I get asked that a lot," he told her. "I'm sixteen, Agent Booth."

"Just call him Booth," Sweets told him. "We all do."

Booth glared at him.

"At least there's one kid here who has respect for his elders," he muttered out of the side of his mouth.

Sweets just grinned at him, making him either want to pop him a good one or give him a wedgie.

He wasn't sure which, yet.

Booth looked back at Brennan, curiously.

"How exactly can you have a sixteen year old as your assistant?" he wanted to know.

"He's a doctoral candidate, Booth," Brennan explained. "He has a Bachelor's Degree and Master's Degree in Forensic pathology."

"You're kidding," Booth said, blinking at the kid. "When I was sixteen the only thing I thought about were girls and football."

"Oh, I think about girls," Seth said, smirking. "They actually dig a super smart guy—which I am, by the way."

"He's a genius," Brennan stated the obvious, as she was prone to do.

"So are you," Booth reminded her, grinning, "but you didn't have your degree at sixteen."

"Only because no one recognized my potential sooner," Brennan explained. "Seth's was discovered at the age of ten."

"You see," Seth explained, "I graduated from high school when I was thirteen. I had my Bachelor's at fourteen and my Master's at fifteen."

"And now, you're earning your doctorate," Booth nodded, understanding. "You're folks must be real proud, I guess."

"I suppose they would if I had any," Seth told him, quietly. "I was abandoned as a baby."

"Oh, man," Sweets said, "I'm sorry."

Booth nodded in agreement with him.

Seth shrugged. "It's okay," he said. "I don't need parents, anyway."

Booth frowned at that. Every body needed somebody, after all.

"Where do you live?" he asked, curiously.

Genius or not, the boy was underage so he had to have a guardian or something.

"At the moment, here," Seth said, quietly.

"Cool," Sweets said, smiling. "I'd so totally love living here."

"You would," Booth muttered. "Bones, can we talk?"

"Of course," Brennan told him. "Let's go to my office. Seth, why don't you continue the initial exam while I speak with Agent Booth?"

"Of course, Dr. Brennan," the boy said, smiling, "I'd be happy to."

"Uh, Dr. Brennan," Sweets held up his hand like he was in a classroom. "Just out of curiosity why did you ask me down here?"

Brennan blinked at him.

"To meet Seth, of course," she told him. "I thought—given the closeness of your ages—you two would have a lot in common."

Booth snorted. "You set up a play date for the kids," he said, chuckling. "Well, wasn't that sweet."

"I'm may be underage, Agent Booth," Seth told him, "but I am not a kid."

"Ditto," Sweets said, "at least about the not being a kid thing—I _am_ twenty-two, you know."

"Right," Booth said, clearly letting them know what he thought of _that_. "Bones."

With that, he headed for her office.

She followed, closing the door behind them.

"Where on earth did he come from?" Booth asked, pointing out her office window at Seth.

"He applied for the position, Booth," Brennan told him. "I liked him, so I chose him."

"Bones," Booth said, sighing, "that kid should be out chasing girls, worrying about acne, and roller-blading—not getting a doctorate in forensic pathology."

"Why not?" Brennan asked, puzzled.

"Because he's a kid, Bones," Booth said, exasperated.

Explaining real world concepts to a genius scientist could sometimes be like pulling teeth.

"He's not a 'normal' kid, Booth," Brennan reminded him.

"Neither was Zack and look what happened to him," Booth told her, pointedly.

A sad look clouded Brennan's eyes and he knew he'd gone too far.

That particular wound was still very much open for all of them…

He sighed. "All I'm saying," He told her, "is that if he stays here and works for you—he's never going to be ready to face the real world."

"Why not?" Brennan asked, puzzled. "The rest of us do just fine."

"Uh huh," Booth said, giving her a pointed look.

"Bones, the only ones here who actually try to function in the real world are Cam and Angela—and she's slowly getting Hodgins there. You and Sweets, however, I'm still working on."

"The real world is overrated," Brennan told him, rolling her eyes.

"No, it's reality," Booth told her, "and that kid out there isn't ready for it yet. I mean, look at him."

"That's simply how he expresses himself," Brennan said, referring to the boy's taste in clothes. "Teenagers commonly rail against society's norms."

"It's called rebelling, Bones," Booth said, "and most kids rebel against their parents—not society."

"Not all kids have parents," Brennan reminded him. Another still open wound…

"So, why exactly is he living here?" he asked, curiously. "Is he emancipated or something?"

"Not exactly," Brennan said. "He was in the foster care system, but when he started college—the university accepted responsibility for him."

"He had an entire university as his legal guardian?" Booth asked, frowning.

"The administration, Booth," she explained. "And now that he is working here…"

"Don't tell me," Booth guessed, "the _Jeffersonian_ is now his legal guardian."

"Actually," Brennan said, "I am—since I'm the one hiring him."

"You!?" Booth exclaimed. "You don't know the first thing about teenagers, Bones."

"I know that," Brennan told him, "which is why I asked you to come down here."

"Huh?" Booth said, puzzled.

"He obviously can't actually stay here," Brennan said, "and he can't live with me—my place is too small. You, however, have a third bedroom and I thought, maybe…?"

"You want me to ask the kid to come live with me!" Booth exclaimed, heatedly.

"Just temporarily," Brennan said. "More than likely, he'll want to get a place of his own."

"He's not ready to get a place of his own," Booth growled. "That's what I've been trying to tell you!"

Brennan sighed. Booth's habit of clinging to the illogical gave her a headache at times.

"Please, Booth," she pleaded with him. "He's good—really good. I've been working with him all morning. He's still has a lot to learn, of course, but that's why he's here. Zack wasn't even as knowledgeable when he first started here."

"Is that what this is about?" Booth asked her, gently. "You're still blaming yourself for what happened to Zack, so you're trying to make up for it with this kid?"

"No," Brennan told him, firmly. "He applied and I liked what I saw in his application—his age wasn't even a factor for me."

"That's just it. It _is_ a factor, Bones," Booth told her. "He's a child."

"He's an adolescent," Brennan stated, firmly. "There's a difference."

"No, there isn't," Booth argued, stubbornly.

"Please," Brennan asked again, hoping he'd see reason.

"Look at it this way, you have experience with children—you could teach him about the real world so that he will be ready to face it."

Booth sighed. She'd definitely been hanging around Sweets too long. The kid was starting to rub off on her.

"I guess somebody should," he said, shaking his head. "You owe me for this, Bones."

"I'll buy our next round of drinks after our next case," she promised him, smiling.

Just then, Booth's cell phone rang and he answered it.

"We'll be right there," he said, after listening for a minute.

He glanced at Brennan. "Speaking of our next case…"

She nodded, understanding. "I'll get the equipment," she said.

"And I'll get the kid," Booth said, sighing. "I'll think about it, okay? We'll see how he does out in the field first."

"Don't worry," she told him, "he really _is_ good."

Booth knew she rarely handed out compliments so this kid must be really special indeed.

"He'd better be," he told her, and then strolled out to inform Seth they had to get to a crime scene.

"Hey, what's up?" Angela, Brennan's best friend, asked her curiously as she entered her office.

"Case," Brennan said, gathering the gear she would need. "Booth's agreed to house Seth—at least he's considering it."

"That's great," Angela said, glancing to where Booth and the boy stood. "Oh, wow."

Brennan glanced up. "What is it?" she asked, curiously.

"With them standing side by side like that," Angela said, "Booth and Seth look a lot alike, don't you think?"

Brennan studied the two males and shrugged. "Coincidence," she said, simply.

"Or maybe not…" Angela whispered, watching as she headed over to the two of them and they headed out to the crime scene.

Her instincts were tingling.

And her instincts were rarely wrong.

TBC…


	2. The Girl under the Apple Tree

**Bones**

"**Paternal Instincts"**

**Summary: **Bones' young new assistant has a secret…he is Booth's son.

**Author's Note(s): **Takes place after the whole "Widow's Son" storyline, so Zack is gone.

**Warning: **This story _will_ contain spanking of a teenager.

_**Disclaimer**_**: **The only character I own is Seth. Booth, Bones, and the Squints I don't own.

Chapter Two: The Girl under the Apple Tree

"Appears to be a female in her late teens, early twenties," Brennan stated. "She's been a dead awhile…more than ten years, at least."

She was kneeling down to examine the skeletal remains that had been unearthed at the local university.

"There appears to be no signs of fractures or abrasions on any of the appendages," Seth commented, as he took pictures, "which probably means she never once had a broken arm or leg."

"True," Brennan agreed. "There also appears to be no signs of head injury…"

"Well, that's good for her," Booth commented, "but how exactly did she die?"

"It's too early to tell for sure," Brennan said, "but…"

"She appears to have been struck in the rib cage by some blunt object," Seth said, taking a picture of the rib cage.

"This caused several of her ribs to puncture her lungs. Blood would have pooled inside them—drowning her from within."

"Very good, Seth," Brennan nodded, in approval.

"Thank you, Dr. Brennan," the boy said, blushing.

To hide it, he moved over to start taking pictures of where the body had been buried—under an old apple tree in the middle of the campus.

"I'd watch out, Bones," Booth said, smirking. "That kid is crushing on you."

"He's what?" Brennan asked, puzzled.

"He's falling for you," Booth told her, "It's happens to boys his age. I once had this major crush on this really hot teacher of mine…"

"I don't think I want to know," Brennan told him, "but he was correct. I would definitely say that it was a blunt object to her ribs that killed her, but we'll take her back to the lab and double check."

"How long do you think it will take you to find out who she is?" Booth asked, curiously.

"Actually, Agent Booth," Seth said, coming back over, "I think I may have found that out already."

Booth frowned. "How?" he asked, curiously.

The boy held something out to him. "I found this in the grave," he explained.

"A campus I.D. card," Booth said, glancing at it. "Damn!"

"What?" Brennan and Seth asked at the same time.

"I know her," Booth stated, handing over the idea card which had a picture of a young woman about twenty years old with long red hair and green eyes.

"I _dated_ her, in fact."

"Who is she?" Brennan asked, curiously.

"Sarah Jane Sanderson," Booth said, swallowing hard. "We dated for a little while back in the day—and then she just disappeared."

"And you didn't find that strange?" Brennan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She had just broken up with me, Bones," Booth said. "I just assumed she had gone home to her folks or something. I really liked her, too."

"I'm sorry," Brennan said, sympathetically. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah," Booth said, shrugging. "That _was_ sixteen years ago. But I do want to find who killed her and why."

Brennan nodded. "We will," she assured him.

Booth glanced at Seth. "Good work, kid," he told him, patting him on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Agent Booth," Seth said, smiling.

"Like Sweets said, just call me Booth," he told him. "We ready to wrap things up here?"

"Yes," Brennan said, smiling.

"Good," Booth said. "I'll drive you two back to the Jeffersonian—let the squints start doing their thing—and I'm going to try and track down some of Sarah Jane's old friends."

"Squints?" Seth asked his new mentor as they made their way back toward the SUV they'd come in.

"That's Booth's word for scientists," Brennan explained. "He says it's because we squint a lot while we examine things."

"Oh," the boy said. "I've never really thought about it—but we do, I guess. Squint a lot, I mean."

"You have a sense of humor," Brennan told him, seriously. "That's good. Booth likes people who have a sense of humor."

"Do you think he likes me?" the boy asked, hopefully.

He glanced over to the FBI agent, who was getting into the driver's seat while they put the equipment in the back.

"Yes, I think he does," she told him, honestly. "Now, let's get back to the lab."

"Yes, Ma'am," the boy said, climbing into the SUV.

They drove back to the Institute where they were greeted by Brennan's other forensic team members.

"What's up?" Dr. Cam Saroyan, the team's medical examiner, asked.

"The sky," Brennan answered seriously.

"I think she means what's the case?" Dr. Jack Hodgins, the team's resident 'bug and garbage' expert, told her.

"A young woman named Sarah Jane Sanderson, age twenty," Seth answered him. "She has been dead for approximately sixteen years. Cause of death was most likely a blunt instrument to the rib cage."

"Damn," Angela said, impressed, "the kid _is_ good."

Seth blushed. "Not really," he admitted. "I just found her student I.D. card at the crime scene and Agent Booth knew her."

"He did?" Cam asked, surprised.

"Apparently he dated her," Brennan told them, "sixteen years ago."

"When he was in the army?" Angela asked, intrigued.

She always loved learning more about the handsome FBI agent's past.

"He didn't say," Brennan told her, "but one can only assume…"

"All right," Cam said, "then I guess we need to get to work."

Brennan nodded. "Seth and I will get to work on figuring out just which kind of blunt object could have been used," she said.

"Bring back any dirt samples from the grave?" Hodgins asked, hopefully.

"Of course," Brennan told him, nodding at Seth.

The boy held up a couple vials.

"Awesome," the man said, smiling. "I'll get busy on determining if there was anything unusual buried with her or not."

"I'll x-ray the bones to see if there was anything else that might have led to her death," Cam said.

"And I'll go see Agent Booth," Sweets stated, speaking for the first time. "Where is he?"

"He headed back to the Bureau," Brennan told him. "Why?"

"You said he knew the victim, dated her," the young man said. "It's got to be hurting him emotionally on some level—guilt, as well."

"I don't think Agent Booth really wants to talk," Seth told him. "He seemed…quiet…when he dropped us off."

"All the more reason he should talk about how he's feeling," Sweets said, smirking. "I'll catch ya later, man."

With that, he turned and headed for the exit.

"He just loves asking for trouble, doesn't he?" Angela stated, smirking. "Do you still have that I.D. card?"

"Yes, of course," Brennan said. "You're going to make a computer model?"

"Of course, Sweetie," Angela said, grinning.

"Good," Brennan said, handing over the I.D. card. "C'mon, Seth, let's get to work."

"Right behind you, Dr. Brennan," the boy said and followed in her wake.

Angela glanced down at the picture of their victim.

The girl had died sixteen years ago.

Booth had dated her sixteen years ago.

And Seth had been born sixteen years ago.

Was there a connection?

Her instincts were tingling again.

She smiled.

She knew exactly what to do.

TBC…


	3. More to Life

**Bones**

"**Paternal Instincts"**

**Summary: **Bones' young new assistant has a secret…he is Booth's son.

**Author's Note(s): **Takes place after the whole "Widow's Son" storyline, so Zack is gone.

**Warning: **This story _will_ contain spanking of a teenager.

_**Disclaimer**_**: **The only character I own is Seth. Booth, Bones, and the Squints I don't own.

Chapter 3: More to Life

Booth entered the Jeffersonian and headed for Bones' office.

He'd finally managed to shut Sweets up with a threat of being tossed out his window unless he went home.

Luckily for him, the kid had taken the hint.

Because of him, he hadn't gotten any work done—except for getting the address of Sarah Jane's closest friend.

He'd also managed to find out her parents were dead.

What he couldn't figure out was why they had never reported their daughter as missing?

"Hey, Bones," he greeted her, entering her office. "How are things here in Squint central?"

"About the same," Bones told him, sighing.

"Cam confirmed our original theory that it was a blunt object that killed her. Hodgins didn't find any abnormalities in the dirt samples we gave him. Seth and I were able to narrow down the possible objects used, but that's about it."

"So basically," Booth said, "somebody killed her and then buried her to cover it up."

"Looks like it," Bones agreed with him. "Find anything out on your end?"

"Just where an old friend of hers lives," Booth said, "and that her folks are dead. Sweets bugged the crap out of me all day today."

Bones grinned at that. "I'm guessing he didn't get you to talk about your feelings," she concluded.

Booth snorted. "Oh, I talked all right," he told her, grinning. "It just wasn't what the brat wanted to here."

Bones shook her head. "Must you call him that?" she asked, curiously.

"You have to admit he does act like one sometimes," Booth told her. "Especially when he doesn't take a hint."

She smiled at that.

The young shrink liked getting into people's head and sometimes he let that dominate everything else.

She could relate to that…or she used to.

She now knew there was more to life than just science and reason—though she still thoroughly believed those were the essentials of life.

"He meant well," she told him, "I think."

"Yeah, right," Booth said. "Where's the other kid?"

"Seth?' Bone asked, and then nodded towards the couch in the corner.

Booth followed her gaze to find the teenager sound asleep. He smirked.

"I guess its past his bed time," he commented, quietly.

"He really tried hard today," Bones told him, "and he suggested things I would never have thought of. I think he's going to be a great assistant—and an even greater scientist."

"Yeah, that's great," Booth said, hesitantly, "but will he be a great man while he's at it?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, curiously.

"A man or woman is more than just what he or she does for a living, Bones," he told her. "I wonder what kind a man that kid is going to be someday—especially with no foundation under him."

"He has a foundation," Bones said. "A good strong academic one."

"Again I can't help flashing back to Zack, Bones," Booth told her, sighing. "He _has _family and yet…"

"Yet you believe his strong intellect hindered his ability to function and therefore caused him to be easily manipulated by the Master," Bones stated, stoically.

"I wish I could say otherwise," Booth said, "but that's how I feel. He lived only in the world of bones…"

"Which made him incomplete," Bones finished the thought. "Maybe it did, I no longer know."

"There's more to life than science and reason, Temperance," Booth reminded her, bending down to lean on her desk.

He rarely called her by her first name that when he did it always caused her to blush slightly.

The way he said it, there was something so intimate about it…

"I know," she told him, glancing back at her computer.

He smiled. "So, he done for the day?" he asked, nodding at the slumbering youth.

"I suppose so," Bones said. "We won't find out anymore tonight that we didn't today. Why?"

"Well, I thought you wanted me to take him home with me," Booth reminded her, smirking.

"You never told me you would," she reminded him. "You just said you'd consider it."

"I considered it," Booth said. "The kid did do good out there today, and he isn't as quirky as the rest of you yet."

"Quirky?" Bones asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"Its a term of endearment," Booth told her, grinning charmingly. "I just love my quirky squints. See?"

"Uh huh," Bones said, smiling. "And thank you."

"Don't mention it," Booth told her. "Maybe I can talk him into losing the piercings and dog collar."

Bones smiled. "Did you ever have a rebellious stage?" she asked him, curiously.

"Of course," Booth told him, "but mine consisted of me staying out all night partying with my friends and mooning folks."

"You showed your rear end in public?" she asked him.

"That's generally what mooning means, Bones," he told her, smirking.

"I shouldn't be surprised, I guess," she told him. "After all, you didn't mind showing off your penis underneath the bleachers…"

"You're never going to let me live that story down, are you?" he asked her.

"Why should I?" she said. "You gave me Brainy smurf as a reminder of my humiliating moment…"

"No," Booth said, firmly, "I gave you Brainy smurf to remind you not to count yourself short."

"Either way, it is still a reminder," Bones said, smiling. "Why should I be the only one to suffer?"

Booth opened his mouth to protest this, but then started chuckling. "I guess you're right," he told her.

"Of course I am," she told him.

He shook his head and then walked over to kneel down by the sofa.

"Seth," he said, shaking the teenager gently.

The boy blinked opened his eyes, obviously disoriented from snoozing.

"Agent Booth?" he asked, sitting up. "Did I fall asleep?"

"Yeah, looks like it," he told him, smirking. "Must have really hit the grind stone today, huh?"

"Not really," Seth said. "Dr. Brennan did almost all the work—I just helped."

"You did more than that," Bones informed him. "You did good work today, Seth."

The boy blushed at her compliment. "Thank you, Dr. Brennan," he said. "I'm sorry I fell asleep."

"It's late," she reasoned, "and you're tired. It's only logically that you would feel the need to rest."

"She's trying to tell you it's okay," Booth told him, grinning. "I think."

"I am," Bones said, "and I'm also saying its time to call it a day."

"But what about the case?" the boy asked, blinking.

"These things usually take a few days," Booth assured him. "You can pick it back up tomorrow."

"Oh," the boy said. It was obvious he was slightly disappointed.

It was his first day and he really wanted to do a good job…to prove himself worthy of being Dr. Temperance Brennan's assistant.

Booth and Bones exchanged glances and she gave him a not so subtle nod in the boy's direction.

He smiled. "Listen, Seth," he said, "Bones and I were talking and neither one of us like the idea of you actually staying at the Jeffersonian…"

"I wouldn't bother anything, Agent Booth," Seth said. "I'm not some sticky fingered little kid."

"Well, it's not that," Booth told him. "It's more…this place is pretty much a tomb once everyone leaves."

"I don't scare easily either," the boy told him, grinning.

"Besides that, this couch can't be all that comfortable," Booth said, "and I happen to have a spare room nobody is using at the moment…"

"Are you asking me to stay with you, Agent Booth?" the boy asked him, curiously.

"Yep," Booth said. "I've got a full fridge, cable, and a multitude of DVDs that you can check out if you want to. What do you say?"

Seth glanced at Bones, who nodded at him in encouragement.

"All right," he said, "if you don't mind having a kid live with you?"

"He already has one," Bones told him.

"You do?" Seth asked, surprised.

"My son, Parker," Booth told him. "He's ten, but he lives with his mother—I get him every other weekend."

"Oh," Seth said, "all right then. I'll get my stuff."

He got up and retrieved a couple of duffle bags.

"That all you got?" Booth asked, a bit surprised.

"One has my clothes and stuff," Seth explained, "and the other my books."

"Of course," Booth said, smirking. Yep, the kid was definitely a squint.

"Well, let's hit the road."

"I'll see you in the morning, Seth," Bones told the boy.

"I'll be ready and willing, Dr. Brennan," he told her. "We'll figure out the murder weapon tomorrow."

"We can always hope," Bones said. "Have a good night."

"Be careful, Bones," Booth told her, "and go home."

"I will," Bones promised. "I just have a little bit left to do."

"I can always stay and help you," Seth offered.

"No, thanks," Bones told him, "this really has nothing to do with the case…"

Booth smirked. "Writing another book?" he asked, curiously.

Bones nodded. "Yes," she said, "and before you ask—no, you can't read it."

"Ah, c'mon, Bones," Booth whined.

"Bye, Booth," she told him, grinning.

He sighed. "Night, Bones," he said. "C'mon, Seth."

He patted the boy on the shoulder and headed out.

"Good night, Dr. Brennan," Seth told her, and then followed after the man.

Bones shook her head and then sat back down at her computer.

A knock on her door had her looking up again.

She was surprised to see Angela standing there.

"Hey," she greeted her friend, "I didn't know you were still here—I thought you and Hodgins left an hour ago."

"I sent him on ahead," Angela told her, but then bit her lip.

Bones knew that meant she had something she wanted to say.

"What is it?" she asked her, curious.

"I've got something I need you to see." Angela told her.

"Is it about the case?" Bones asked.

"Kinda," Angela said, "but it's mostly about Booth and Seth."

Bones frowned, wondering what it could be.

"All right."

TBC…


	4. Home Sweets Home

**Bones**

"**Paternal Instincts"**

**Summary: **Bones' young new assistant has a secret…he is Booth's son.

**Author's Note(s): **Takes place after the whole "Widow's Son" storyline, so Zack is gone.

**Warning: **This story _will_ contain spanking of a teenager.

_**Disclaimer**_**: **The only character I own is Seth. Booth, Bones, and the Squints I don't own.

Chapter Four: Home Sweets Home

The drive from the Jeffersonian was very quiet.

Booth wasn't exactly sure how to start off a conversation with the boy sitting beside him.

What exactly did you say to a sixteen year old doctoral candidate genius, anyway?

Fortunately, Seth saved him from having to figure it out.

"What's it like being an FBI agent?" the boy asked, curiously.

"It's the best," Booth told him. "I couldn't see myself doing anything else in the world."

"So, I guess it's more than just a job to you," Seth said, smiling.

"You bet," Booth said, "it has to be—otherwise I wouldn't be able to help people the way I do. What about you?"

"What do you mean?" the boy asked him, curiously.

"Well," Booth said, smirking, "is Forensic Science just a job to you?"

"No, it's something I've always wanted to do," Seth told him. "That's why I want to do a good job as Dr. Brennan's assistant."

"How did you decide that, exactly?" Booth asked. "I mean, of all the things in the world you could have chosen why forensics."

"Well, growing up in the orphanage the other kids didn't really want anything to do with me because I was so smart," Seth explained, "so I was alone a lot."

"That's terrible," Booth said. "Kids can be cruel at times."

"I know," Seth told him, quietly. "Anyway, I found solace in books—mystery books."

"Ah," Booth said, smiling. "Let me guess—Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes, right?"

"Yeah," Seth said, grinning, "how did you know?"

"Because," Booth told him, grinning, "he was my hero as a kid too—it's why I wanted to become an agent."

"Really? Whoa," Seth said, "I never thought you and I would…uh…have a lot in common."

"Me, either," Booth said, "but why forensics—why not become a detective like ole Sherlock?"

"Because," Seth said, "Sherlock used forensics—not just deduction—to solve his crimes. I thought it was the neatest thing in the world that somebody could use science in such a practical way."

"I thought all science was practical and logical," Booth said. "Bones seems to think so, anyway."

"A lot of science is still merely theory and conjecture," Seth said, "like quantum physics, for example. But forensics can be proven, you know."

"I do know," Booth said, and then bit his lip. "You mind if I ask something a bit personal?"

"No," Seth said, "go ahead."

"You said you were abandoned as a baby," Booth said, "but why weren't you ever adopted?"

"I was," Seth said, "that's how I got my last name. The Carters adopted me soon after I was abandoned, but they, um, died in a car accident when I was two."

"Oh, man," Booth said, feeling horrible for the boy, "I'm so sorry."

Seth shrugged, trying to appear nonchalent.

"I don't even remember them," he confessed. "After I was returned to the orphanage, I began to show signs of advanced intelligence. A lot of potential parents were intimidated by that, I guess."

"You're kidding?" Booth shook his head. "I thought parents wanted their kids to be geniuses."

"If they're their biological kids, sure," Seth said, "but if they're adopted—they apparently don't think they could handle it."

"Well, that just sucks," Booth stated, firmly.

"Tell me about it," Seth said, quietly. "But like I said, it doesn't matter now, anyway."

Booth narrowed his eyes at that.

The hell it didn't?

The kid still felt that hurt, he was sure of it.

He wasn't sure just what he could say to make the kid feel better, so he opted for simply reaching over and giving his shoulder a squeeze.

They rode in silence after that, pulling up at Booth's apartment.

Heading inside, he was more than a little surprised by who was waiting for them.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he muttered, shaking his head.

Sitting beside his front door was none other than Lance Sweets.

"Uh, hey, Booth," Sweets greeted him, standing up.

"What?" Booth asked, narrowing his eyes. "Bugging the crap out of me all day today not enough for you?"

Sweets bit his lip.

"Look," he said, "when I got home there was a note from my landlord telling me the whole place was being fumigated due to a termite problem."

"And you're telling me this because…?" Booth asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I need a place to crash for tonight," Sweets told him.

"So, don't you have a girlfriend?" Booth snorted.

"Not anymore," Sweets said, his face falling. "She, uh, dumped me last week."

Booth almost blurted out 'I wonder why' but managed to contain himself.

"What about a hotel?" he asked.

"I don't like hotels, Booth," Sweets said, "and besides—I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Why the hell not?" Booth asked, rolling his eyes.

Sweets shrugged, his boyish face taking on a decidedly pleading look.

"Please, Booth," he begged, "just let me crash on your couch? I won't be a bother, I swear."

Booth scowled, but then sighed. He glanced at Seth. "What do you think?"

The boy shrugged. "It's your place, Agent Booth," he reminded him, quietly.

He glanced back at Sweets—who was still looking like a lost little puppy dog.

And, unfortunately, he was a sucker when it came to that particular expression—which was why Parker usually [always] came home with _something_ from any of their outings.

"Fine," he said, getting out his keys, "you can cash on the couch."

Sweets' face lit up and he grabbed the overnight bag that had been sitting beside him.

"Thanks, Booth," he told him, "I'll owe you big time, dude."

"Oh, I know you will," Booth said, opening the door and ushering the two of them inside.

Entering himself, he closed the door and locked it behind him.

"Nice place you got here," Sweets said, dropping his bag beside the couch and sitting down.

He kicked off his shoes and put his feet on the coffee table.

Booth snorted. "Just make yourself at home, why don't you?" he muttered, shaking his head.

Sweets winced and lowered his feet. "Sorry," he stated, quietly.

"Sweets," Booth told him, "you really need to grow a pair, man."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the young psychiatrist, frowning.

"If you don't already know," Booth told him, smirked, "then that just proves my point."

"Uh, Agent Booth," Seth said, "where exactly do I put my stuff?"

"Come on," he told him, "I'll show you where the guest room is."

Seth nodded and followed him into a small hall way that had two room on the left and three on the right.

"Bathroom is right here," Booth said, pointing the first door on the right, "and then my bedroom is the third door. Middle one is a closet."

"This must be your son's room," Seth commented, pointing to the first door on the left—which was wide open.

It was obviously decorated for a child—not to mention all the toys and stuff thrown about.

"I told Parker to clean it up before he went to his mom's," Booth muttered, shaking his head.

"Maybe he didn't hear you," Seth said, grinning.

"Oh, he heard me all right," Booth told him, "he just decided not to listen."

"Kids, huh?" Seth said, smiling.

Booth chuckled. "You said it," he said. "Here's the guest room." He opened the second door on the left.

Seth stepped inside, glanced around, and nodded.

"Are you sure you wouldn't want me to just crash on the couch?" he asked. "I mean, Dr. Sweets should—"

"Dr. Sweets wasn't originally invited," Booth reminded him, "and the couch won't kill him."

Seth nodded. "Would you mind if I took a shower, then?" he asked, opening one of his bags.

"Of course not," Booth told him, smiling. "Knock yourself out. I'll go order us some dinner. You like pizza?"

"Does Dr. Hodgins like garbage?" Seth asked, smirking.

Booth laughed at that. "Creepy, isn't it?" he said. "So, Pepperoni?"

"That's fine with me," Seth told him, pulling toiletries out of his bag.

"Cool," Booth said, and then headed back into the living room to call his favorite pizza place.

He found Sweets kicked back again, flipping through channels.

"You got cable, dude," the younger man said, smiling. "500 channels—totally wicked."

"Glad you like it," Booth told him. "You hungry?"

"You bet," Sweets told him. "What's on the menu?"

"Pizza," Booth told him, resisting the urge to scowl. "Got a preference?"

"Dude, it's pizza," Sweets told him, smirking. "It's _all_ good."

"Uh huh," Booth stated, giving him a look. "Pick up your dirty socks."

Sweets blushed at that and bent to pick up his socks, which he'd 'accidentally' tossed on the floor.

Booth smirked and reached for the phone. He ordered one extra large pepperoni pizza, plus bread sticks.

It arrived exactly thirty minutes later, just as Seth was coming out of the bathroom.

The boy's dark hair was damp from his shower and, of course, no longer spiked.

He was also wearing a pair of black pajama bottoms, but no top.

He was actually well developed for someone who valued brain over brawn.

"That smells good," he said, coming into the kitchen.

"It sure does," Sweets agreed. "Got any beer to go with it?" He opened the refrigerator.

"Sounds good to me," Seth said, smiling.

Booth and Sweets raised an eyebrow at him and he blushed.

"What?" the boy asked, grinning. "I lived on a college campus since I was thirteen…"

"I'm going to hope that doesn't imply what I think it implies," the FBI agent told him, "and no—no beer for you...or you."

That last had been directed at Sweets.

"Why not?" the younger man asked, frowning. "I'm old enough."

"My fridge, my beer," Booth reminded him. "Besides, I've only got two left and those are for Bones and me when we wrap up this case."

"Ah, yes," Sweets said, sighing, "the usual bonding ritual." He grabbed three Cokes and brought them over.

"What's wrong with our 'bonding ritual'?" Booth asked him, frowning.

"Nothing," Sweets said. "I just find it interesting that it's usually only the two of you and not the whole team, given that everybody helps solve the crime."

"Are you implying something?" Booth scowled at the younger man. "About Bones and me?"

Sweets smirked. "C'mon, Booth," he said, grinning, "it's just us guys here—you can admit you are at least attracted to her."

"I don't see how that's any of your freakin' business," Booth growled at him, wanting to hurl something at him.

Sweets' grin widened.

"I'm just sayin' that it's fairly obvious there is chemistry between the two of you that goes deeper than mere friendship," he said, taking a bite of pizza.

"Thank you, Dr. Freud," Booth said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, this isn't your psychiatrist talking," Sweets told him, smirked. "I'm a guy, after all. Anybody with a pair of balls would agree Temperance is hot."

Seth nearly choked on the bread stick he was eating and Booth reached over to pound him on the back.

"Watch your mouth," he growled at the younger man, "and that's Dr. Brennan to you."

"I wasn't being disrespectful, Booth," Sweets told him. "It was a compliment."

"Well, keep your compliments to yourself," Booth growled, and then glanced at Seth. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," the boy told him. "It just went down the wrong pipe, I guess."

"Uh huh," Booth said, smirking knowingly. "Sure it did. Take a sip of Coke to finish washing it down."

"Right," the boy said, blushing slightly. He quickly took a sip of his soda to hide it.

Neither Booth nor Sweets was fooled though. They exchanged knowing glances.

The kid had it bad for Bones, that's for sure.

Of course, apparently, so did Sweets.

Well, that was just too bad because she was all his...figuratively speaking, of course.

They ate in silence after that and then tossed their paper plates in the trash.

The left over pizza and bread sticks went into the refrigerator for later.

"I don't know about you two," Booth said, yawning, "but I'm beat."

"Me, too," Seth said, rubbing his eyes. "I guess I'll go to bed. Goodnight."

"Night, dude," Sweets told him, slapping his back.

"Night," Booth said, going to the hall closet and retrieving a blanket and pillow.

He brought them back in and tossed them at Sweets.

"Uh, thanks," the younger man said, smiling, "and I'm sorry about what I said—I really didn't mean any disrespect."

Booth sighed. When the kid looked like a lost little boy it was hard to stay mad at him.

"I know," he said, "and off the record—I agree with you. Bones is very nice looking."

Sweets smiled. "Night, Booth," he said. "Pleasant dreams."

Booth grinned. "Always," he said. "Night." He turned and headed for his bedroom.

The next morning, he strolled out and headed for the kitchen to get the coffee started.

On his way, he glanced at the couch and snorted.

Sweets lay with one leg thrown over the back, the other hanging off, and an arm thrown over his face.

He was also snorting slightly.

"Figures," Booth muttered, and entered the kitchen.

The coffee had just started brewing when a voice asked, "Do you usually walk around in a pair of boxer shorts with skulls and crossbones on them?"

Startled, he spun around and instantly regretted it.

"You're one to talk, Mr. Tidy Whitey," he grumbled, sourly.

He had definitely seen more of Lance Sweets than he ever wanted to.

"What?" Sweets asked him, glancing down at himself. "They're just briefs, Booth. It's not like I'm naked."

"Might as well be," Booth muttered. "You were snoring five minutes ago."

"I'm a light sleeper," Sweets told him, strolling in and opening a cabinet. "You got any _Cocoa Pebbles_?"

Booth rolled his eyes at him. "Remind me," he said, "how _old_ are you again?"

"Dude, it's chocolate," the younger man said, grinning.

"Don't you think you're hyper enough?" Booth asked him. "And no, I don't."

"What cereal do you have?" Sweets asked him, curiously.

"At the moment," he told him, "none—Parker prefers _Fruit Loops_ and he finished off the last box the other day. I haven't had time to go shopping yet."

"Well, can I at least have coffee?" Sweets asked, grumpily.

"Somebody obviously woke up on the wrong side of the sofa," Booth stated, smirking. He handed him a mug of coffee.

"I'm not exactly a morning person, okay," Sweets told him, taking it and going to the table.

"I noticed," Booth said, pouring himself a mug and joining him.

"Good morning," Seth entered, smiling.

"Morning," both older men said, neither one exactly enthusiastic in his greeting.

The boy smirked. "Note to self," he said, "don't get too close. Might get head bitten off."

Booth chuckled at that. "You're obviously a morning person like Bones," he said, turning around to look at the boy.

He was already dressed, wearing a black button down shirt, black slacks, and the black boots from yesterday.

A white zipper tie hung loosely around his neck and his hair was once again spiked.

He had forgone the dog collar, but the earrings and nose ring were still in place.

"Nice look," Sweets told him, approvingly.

"Why the change?" Booths asked, curiously.

"I thought I should dress a little more professionally," the boy said, blushing slightly, "that's all."

"Uh huh," the two older men said at the same time, exchanging a glance.

The boy was trying to impress his boss...literally.

Sweets finished off his coffee. "Mind if I hit the shower?" he asked Booth.

"I'd prefer you hit the door," Booth told him, jokingly, "but go ahead. Just don't take all day."

"Who, me?" Sweets told him. "I'm hardly high maintenance, Booth."

"Well, I am," Booth told him, "so hurry it up."

"Yes, Sir," Sweets said, mock saluting him. He then retrieved his overnight bag and headed for the bathroom.

"I swear," Booth said, "one of these days I'm gonna put my foot so far up his butt…" He shook his head, exhasperated.

"I think he looks up to you," Seth told him. "Like a big brother."

"I've already got a brother," Booth said, sighing, "and I guess he isn't so bad—I just wish he wouldn't keep blurring the line."

"The line?" the boy asked, puzzled.

"Yeah," Booth told him, 'between kid and adult. When he's talking his psycho babble he at least sounds like he knows what he's talking about, but then he usually follows it up with something like "Dude, like, that is so totally awesome'."

"Well, he is only twenty-two," Seth reminded him, grinning.

"You're only sixteen and you don't talk like that," Booth reminded him, smirking. "Maybe Bones was right."

"About what?" the teenager asked, curiously.

"About you and him hanging out some," Booth said. "You can inspire him to be more adult-like and he can teach you to be more of a kid."

"You don't think I act like a kid?" Seth asked, confused.

"I think," Booth said, "that these are supposed to be the best years of your life and you should be having fun—not worrying about being so responsible all the time."

"Will you say that to Parker when he gets arrested for pulling some crazy stunt when he's sixteen?" the boy asked him, curiously.

"Hell no," Booth said, laughing. "I'll probably ground him 'til he's thirty-five!"

"He's lucky, you know," the kid told him, quietly.

"Why's that?" he asked him, curiously.

"Because at least he has a dad willing to do that for him," Seth said. "I hope he knows that."

"I think he does," Booth told him. "I count my blessings everyday for him, I know that."

"It must be nice," Seth said, quietly. "Mind if I get some coffee, too?"

Booth glanced at his own, untouched cup.

"Tell you what," he said, going and pouring it out, "instead of us drinking my bad coffee, what do you say on the way to the lab I spring for some of the good stuff from _Star Bucks_?"

"You don't have to," Seth told him.

"I want to," he told him, sincerely.

"All right then," Seth said. "Sounds good to me."

"Great," Booth said, smiling. "Now, I just need to get into the bathroom."

With that, he strolled out of the kitchen.

A moment later, Seth heard banging followed by "SWEETS, HURRY YOUR ASS UP ALREADY!"

He smiled.

Something told him that staying with Agent Booth was going be very interesting.

To say the least.

TBC…


	5. A Little Squinting

**Bones**

"**Paternal Instincts"**

**Summary: **Bones' young new assistant has a secret…he is Booth's son.

**Author's Note(s): **Takes place after the whole "Widow's Son" storyline, so Zack is gone.

**Warning: **This story _will_ contain spanking of a teenager.

_**Disclaimer**_**: **The only character I own is Seth. Booth, Bones, and the Squints I don't own.

Chapter Five: A Little Squinting

Booth and Seth walked into the Jeffersonian side by side, each drinking a whipped crème chocolate latte.

"Ah, they're bonding," Angela said to Brennan, who was examining a set of bones found in Peru and sent to them for identification.

"Given that neither is aware of the possibility you proposed to me," Brennan replied, "I highly doubt it is on purpose."

"C'mon," the other woman said, smiling, "you know I'm right."

"I admit," Brennan told her, "the evidence certainly points in that direction—"

"Screams it, more like," Angela said, smirking.

"—however, you can't be conclusive without a DNA match," Brennan finished, giving her a pointed look.

"Well then," Angela said, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "We'll just have to get a DNA match, now won't we?"

"And how do you propose we get a sample from them without coming out and asking them for one?" Brennan asked, curiously.

Angela just grinned.

"Watch and learn, Sweetie," she told her, and then strolled purposefully towards the two males.

"Are you two finished with those?" She asked them, pointing at their coffee cups.

"Uh, yeah," Booth said, "why?"

"Great," Angela said, snatching the cups from them. "Thanks."

She then spun on her heels and headed in the opposite direction, winking at Brennan as she passed her.

"Uh, I wasn't exactly finished with mine," Seth called after her, hesitantly.

"Don't even try to figure that one out," Booth told him, shaking his head. "Trust me, you'll just give yourself a migraine."

"If you say so," Seth said, and then brightened. "Good morning, Dr. Brennan."

"Morning, Seth," Brennan said, coming over to them. "How did you like sleeping with Booth?"

"Whoa, whoa, _Bones_," Booth said, his face pained. "He did _not_ sleep with me in any way, shape, or form."

"He knows what I mean," Brennan said, rolling her eyes. "I simply meant that—"

"I understand," Seth said, "and yes—it was a nice night. Dr. Sweets even stayed over."

"Sweets?" she asked, glancing curiously at Booth. "Why?"

"His apartment was being fumigated," Booth told her. "He asked to crash on my couch."

"Why didn't he simply check into a hotel?" Brennan asked, even more puzzled.

"How the hell should I know?" Booth told her. "He said he didn't like them and that he didn't want to be alone."

"Doesn't he have a girlfriend?" Brennan asked next.

"She dumped him," Booth and Seth answered at the same time.

"I think he was still a little down about it," Booth admitted, "and figured a little male bonding time would help."

"Did it?" she asked, curiously.

"It seemed to," Seth said. "He was singing in the shower until Agent Booth walked in on him…"

"You walked in on him in the shower," Brennan said, glancing at Booth.

"Not really," Booth told her. "He wouldn't hurry it up, so I threatened to throw him out the window if he didn't get his rear in gear."

"Naked," Seth added, smiling. "He was out in five seconds flat. It was hilarious."

"What can I say?" Booth said, smiling. "I have a way with people."

"Uh huh," Brennan said. "Are we going to talk to our victim's friend?"

"Absolutely," Booth told her. "Be my wing man?"

"Wing woman, you mean," Brennan told him, grinning, "and I really wish you wouldn't use military connotations."

"Military connotations?" he asked her. "That wasn't a military connotation, it's a popular phrase used to ask for somebody's help."

"Then why don't you simply say 'Will you help me'?" she asked him, pointedly.

"Well, because," he said, "just because. Look, Bones, we need to do some squinting now. Are you ready to go?"

"Of course," Brennan said, removing her lab coat.

"What would you like me to do while you're gone, Dr. Brennan?" Seth asked, eagerly.

"Just continue trying to find the murder weapon," Brennan told him. "If you get any ideas, run them by Cam to see what she thinks."

"Ah, a little squinting," Booth said, sighing wistfully. "Don't you just love it?"

"Absolutely," both Brennan and Seth said at the same time.

"Dumb question, huh?" Booth said, chuckling. "C'mon, Bones, let's roll. Later, Seth man."

"Bye, Agent Booth," Seth said. "I'll get started right away, Dr. Brennan."

"We should be back in about an hour," Brennan told him, "barring any unforeseen circumstances—such as Booth's hazardous driving."

"Excuse me?" Booth asked, indignant. "My hazardous driving? What's that mean?"

"What do you think it means?" Brennan told him, continuing towards the exit.

Booth hurried after her, demanding an explanation.

They continued to argue all the way out to Booth's SUV.

"You know," Booth said, once they were on their way. "Seth isn't really such a bad kid."

"I know," Brennan said. "You two seemed to have 'bonded' well."

"Putting up with Sweets will do that to you," Booth said, snorting.

"It must not have been too terrible a night," Brennan concluded, "seeing as how you were both laughing and smiling when you entered."

Booth shrugged. "We shared a pizza, talked a bit, and then went to bed," he said, simply. "That was about it."

"What did you talk about?" Brennan asked.

"Uh, just guy stuff," Booth said, not about to tell her she was the topic of their discussion.

"Ah," Brennan said, "women, then."

Booth smirked. "Pretty much, yeah," he said. "Speaking of which, I think you might want to have a talk with Seth before too long."

"About what?" Brennan asked him, curiously.

"C'mon, Bones, didn't you notice he was dressing a bit nicer today?" he asked her.

"I did notice," she told him, "I just don't understand the significance."

"That because you aren't a guy," Booth said. "When a guy likes a girl, he tends to do things to try and impress her."

"And your point is…?" Brennan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Seth dressed up nice today because he's trying to make a nice impression on you," Booth told her, "and not just as his boss, either."

"That's ridiculous, Booth," she said, "he's only sixteen—there's no way I would ever be attracted to him."

"Which is why you need to talk and set him straight right now before it hurts him too much," Booth said. "Guy's egos, Bones, are fragile things—trust me on that one."

Brennan sighed.

"So, you're saying I should tell him I'm in no way interested him romantically before he likes me so much that any kind of rejection would devastate him, correct?"

"See? You can understand men when you want to," Booth teased. "And yes, that's exactly it. Right now, it's just a little puppy love thing happenin'. He'll be disappointed, but not overly crushed."

"I'll speak with him as soon as we get back to the lab," Brennan told him.

"Just remember," Booth told her, "let the kid down gently. Try to at least sound sympathetic. Okay?"

"I can be sympathetic," Brennan told him.

"Right," Booth said, grinning. "Now, let me do all the talking. I'm an old friend, remember?"

"So, what exactly am I supposed to do?" she asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"A little squinting," he told her, smirking. "Watch her for any signs that might give us a clue she's lying or hiding something."

She nodded, understanding.

They arrived, got out, and rang the doorbell.

A woman in her early to mid thirties answered it.

"Can I help you?" she asked, curiously.

"Are you Alison Carmichael?" Booth asked her.

"I used to be," the woman told him, "before I got married."

"You probably don't remember me," Booth told her, "but I dated a friend of yours when you were both in college. Sarah Jane Sanderson."

"Of course," Alison said, recognition dawning in her eyes. "You were the army man she was dating. Booth, wasn't it?"

"That's right," he told her, "but it's Special Agent Booth now." He flashed his badge.

"FBI?" she asked, confused.

"Yes," Booth told her, "this is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan."

The two women shook hands.

"What exactly is this about, Agent Booth?" Alison asked, pointedly.

"Yesterday, the remains of Sarah Jane were found buried under an apple tree on the university campus," he informed her. "Evidence proves she was murdered."

"Oh my God," she gasped, her eyes widening in shock.

"May we come in?" he asked, gently. "We'd like to ask you some questions."

She nodded. "Yes, of course," she said, stepping away from the door to let them in.

She led them to her living room, where they all sat on the sofa.

"I just can't believe it," she said. "Everybody liked Sarah Jane, I mean, the girl was a certified genius."

"I remember," Booth told her, quietly.

"She was a genius?" Brennan asked, curiously. "In what way? Figuratively or literally?"

"Both, really," Alison answered her. "She was very creative, but her I.Q. was the highest I'd ever seen. She was only eighteen and yet she was getting ready to graduate."

"Interesting," Brennan said, thinking that Angela's theory might not be so 'crazy' after all.

"Alison," Booth asked, "when was the last time you actually remember seeing Sarah Jane?"

"Oh, it was the last day of classes," Alison said, sighing. "She seemed preoccupied, but I simply thought it was nerves over graduation, you know."

"She was the valedictorian, correct?" Booth asked, trying to remember that far back.

"Yes, she had the highest grade point average in our year," she told him. "She was wonderful, even though she still seemed preoccupied."

"What about after graduation?" Booth asked her, gently.

She shook her head. "I looked for her, but somebody told me the saw her leave," she told him. "I just assumed her and her folks went out to celebrate. The next day, I went to get my stuff from the dorms and her stuff was gone—so I assumed she'd gone home with them."

Booth nodded. He had thought the same thing.

"Did you try calling her?" he asked. "Writing her?"

"No, I'm afraid not," she told him. "I had been offered a job and I guess I was so wrapped up in establishing myself. Those first few years were hectic ones. Then I met my husband, got married, and started a family."

Booth nodded. "I need you to try and remember if there was anybody at all that might have had it in for Sarah Jane, anybody at all?"

"Well, there were a lot of people jealous of her," Alison told them, "but…no one that would have killed her, I don't think. Although…"

"Although?" Brennan asked, puzzled.

"Well, it might not be anything," the woman told her, "but there was this one guy who seemed a little obsessed with her. She never thought anything of it, but I always thought he might have been stalking her."

"Do you know who this man might be?" Booth asked her.

"His name was Ralph Edmond, I think," she told him. "I want to say he worked at the university as a maintenance man or something…but its been so long…"

Booth stood up and so did Brennan. "We understand and I want to thank you for you help," he told her, shaking her hand. "Would it be all right if we came by again, should we need anything else?"

"Yes, of course," Alison told him. "Sarah Jane was my friend, Agent Booth. I loved her."

"So did I," Booth told her, gently. "Have a good day and thanks again."

She showed them to the door and they headed back out to his SUV.

"Well?" he asked Brennan, as they headed back to the Jeffersonian.

"She seemed to be telling the truth," Brennan told him. "I just don't understand why no one seemed to think it strange when this girl went missing?"

Booth shrugged. "After she broke up with me," he told her, "I was sent on a mission—a long one."

"So, you just forgot about her?" Brennan asked, disbelieving.

"No, of course not," he told her, "but she made it clear it was over between us."

"So, you never thought about calling her?" she asked, curiously.

"I did a couple of times," he admitted, "but I always chickened out. After that, I left the army, joined the Bureau, met Rebecca, and had Parker."

"So, you moved on with your life," she concluded.

"And I just assumed she had done the same," he told her, nodding.

They arrived back at the Jeffersonian and headed inside.

"Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth," Seth came up to them immediately, "how did it go?"

"All right," Brennan told him, "did you find anything?"

"Yes, I did," he said, proudly. "Judging by the size of the fracturing of her rib cage, I determined that it had to be something pretty heavy and hard, but quite wide that made them."

"And?" Booth asked him, curiously.

"And it wasn't any of the items we thought it was," the boy told him, smiling. "It was a car—or rather the grill of a truck, actually."

"A truck?" Booth asked. "You mean, somebody ran her over!?"

Seth nodded. "It appears that way," he told him. "I would say that it had to be a utility vehicle of some kind."

"Like the type that a maintenance man would drive," Booth said, smiling. "I think ole Ralph the maintenance man just moved to the top of our suspect list."

"Now," Brennan said, "we just have to find him."

"Leave that to me," Booth told her, "don't you and Seth have something to discuss?"

"We do?" Seth asked, worriedly. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No, not at all," Brennan assured him. "You're doing very good work, in fact. There's just something I need to discuss with you in my office."

Booth patted the boy on the shoulder and then said, "I'll come back later and give you a lift back to my apartment, okay?"

Seth nodded. "Sure thing, Agent Booth," he told him.

"And Bones is right," he told him. "You're doin' good, pal." With that, he left them alone.

"Let's go in my office," Brennan suggested, gently.

She let him down as best she could, but she could tell he was still very disappointed.

Booth returned a few hours later, reporting that he had put out a search for one Ralph Edmond.

He said they would have something in the morning.

He and Seth left after that, headed back to his apartment.

Angela and Cam joined Brennan in her office, and she explained what their talk had been about.

"Poor kid," Angela said, sighing. "He looked really bummed out."

"He'll get over it," Cam said, confidently. "He's a kid. They're resilient."

"Yes, they are," Brennan agreed, "so what brings you both by?"

"Well," Angela said, smirking, "Cam did a little squinting for us and has some news regarding my theory."

Brennan raised an eyebrow. "You did a DNA test?"

Cam nodded. "Yes, I did," she told him, "and it seems Angela's hunch was correct."

"Then that means…"

"Yep. Seth is most definitely Booth's son."

TBC…


	6. A Shocking Secret

**Bones**

"**Paternal Instincts"**

**Summary: **Bones' young new assistant has a secret…he is Booth's son.

**Author's Note(s): **Takes place after the whole "Widow's Son" storyline, so Zack is gone.

**Warning: **This story _will_ contain spanking of a teenager.

_**Disclaimer**_**: **The only character I own is Seth. Booth, Bones, and the Squints I don't own.

Chapter 6: A Shocking Secret

Once again, the ride back to Booth's apartment was a quiet one.

He had a feeling he knew why Seth was so quiet tonight, but he just didn't know how to broach the subject.

"Agent Booth," Seth spoke up suddenly, "do you know anything about women?"

Booth grinned. "Depends on what you mean by 'know', buddy," he told him, hesitantly.

The boy sighed.

"I guess what I'm trying to ask is, was I so obvious with Dr. Brennan?" he asked, his face pained. "You know, about 'liking' her."

"As one guy to another guy," Booth told him, "I'd have to say it was pretty obvious, pal, but—you do realize that nothing could ever happen there, right?"

"I'm not a complete moron, Agent Booth," Seth told him, grinning, "but it would have been nice to dream for a bit more. Know what I mean?"

"Oh, yeah," Booth said, smirking. "I know exactly what you mean, budding. So, did she let you down gently?"

"If by gently you mean 'Seth, as my assistant and my junior by about twenty years, it would be completely inappropriate for you to develop romantic notions regarding me' then I guess she did," he told him.

"I got the message, that's for sure."

Booth winced. Ooh. Ouch.

He was really going to have to talk to Bones about what 'gently' meant.

Reaching over, he gave the boy's shoulder a squeeze. "Women, huh?" he chuckled.

The boy nodded, smiling a bit. "You said it," he said, shaking his head. "Will I ever understand them?"

"Nope," Booth told him, definitely. "Women are the one mystery we men will _never_ figure out."

"Great," Seth said, sighing.

Booth laughed. "You just need to get out more," he told him. "Go hang out with kids your own age."

"But I don't have anything in common with kids my own age," Seth said.

"Why not?" Booth asked him. "You like movies, don't you?"

"Yeah," Seth said, "who doesn't?"

"What about music?" Booth asked him. "Video games?"

"But other kids go to, you know, school and deal with parents," Seth reminded him. "I go to the Jeffersonian and deal with dead bodies—not even, I work with skeletons!"

"You'd be surprised how many kids would find that totally awesome," Booth told him, pulling him into the parking lot of his building.

"You think so?" Seth asked, as they got out and made their way inside.

"I know so," Booth told him, slapping him on the back. "How about we break open some Chocolate Chip Peanut Butter Ice Cream?"

"Isn't that for your son?" Seth asked him, curiously.

Booth shrugged, opening the door.

"He's got too many cavities, anyway," he told him, as they went inside. "Besides, I can always get some more before I pick him up this weekend."

Seth smiled. "Wasn't there a basketball game supposed to be on tonight, too?"

Booth smiled back.

"Seth, my man," he told him, "I think this I the beginning of a beautiful friendship. You find the game and I'll get the ice cream."

Twenty minutes later, they were both stretched out on the sofa in just their underwear with their socked feet propped up on the coffee table munching on ice cream and chocolate chip cookies watching a really great basketball game on TV.

After they'd polished off the ice cream and cookies, Booth glanced over at the boy and asked, "How about some popcorn?"

Seth belched loudly in response.

"Excuse me," he said, blushing slightly, "and yeah—popcorn sounds great."

"Comin' right up," Booth said, and hopped up to head for the kitchen.

He was half-way there when a knock sounded on the door.

Sighing, he veered off course to answer it.

"Who is it?" he called out, his hand on the doorknob.

"It me, Booth," Bones voice called out from the other side. "Cam and Angela are with me, too."

Frowning, he opened the door to reveal all three women standing there.

"Uh, what are you all doin' here?" he asked, puzzled.

"Nice shorts," Angela said, pointing at his 'skull and cross bones' boxers.

"Those are new," Cam said, grinning, "aren't they?"

"Do you usually walk around in just your underwear?" Bones asked him, curiously.

"Do you mind?" Booth asked them, covering himself. "What are you all doing here? Is this about the case or something because it could really wait 'til tomorrow, you know?"

"Actually, it can't," Bones told him, pushing him out of the way so that the three of them could enter.

"D-Dr. Brennan? Dr. Saroyan? Angela?" Seth squeaked, his face flaming red. "Uh, hi."

He quickly tried to hide the fact he was in just his shorts too by throwing a pillow in his lap.

It didn't work. All three women grinned at his embarrassment.

"Are we interrupting something?" Cam asked Booth, curiously.

"Yeah, a guy's night in," Booth told her, rolling his eyes, "and those don't usually involve females."

"Unless you count strippers," Angela said, earning a weird look from everyone present. "What? I'm just saying…"

"I repeat," Booth said, through gritted teeth, "what the hell are you three doing here?"

"We have something to share with you both," Bones said. "Or rather, Angela does."

"Uh, yeah," Angela said. "Maybe you should sit down, Booth."

"Uh oh," Booth said, groaning. "This can't be good." He went and sat back down on the sofa.

"Can we lose the TV?" Cam asked, nodding at the game.

Sighing, Booth shut it off. "Make this quick," he told them.

Angela sighed, opening up the laptop she had brought along.

"What I'm about to tell you both is going to come as a huge shock," she warned them in advanced, "okay?"

"Don't you think that's being a bit overdramatic?" Booth asked her. "I'm sure it can't be that bad."

She hit a couple of buttons and three pictures popped up.

One was of Booth, the next was of Seth, and the third was of their murder victim taken from her student I.D.

"The other day," she said, "when the two of you were standing close together I noticed that you looked a lot alike."

Booth and Seth glanced at each other. "We do?" they asked at the same time.

"Yes, you do," Angela said, "and it got my instincts tingling for some reason. Then, when we got this case and found out you dated the victim sixteen years ago…"

She hit some more buttons.

On the screen, Booth's eyes, ears, and chin became highlighted and Sarah Jane's nose, lips, and cheekbones were highlighted.

"Watch," she told them, and hit the enter key.

Booth's and Sarah Jane's highlighted features shifted, imposing themselves over Seth's picture.

The word 'match' popped up.

"So, this proves what…?" Booth asked, not getting it.

Seth's eyes widened and he paled considerably. "Oh God," he breathed, sitting up straighter.

"What?" Booth asked him, frowning.

He was obvious he understood something, but what the hell was it?

"There was a reason I snatched your coffee cups this morning," Angela admitted. "I gave them to Cam."

Cam handed both of them a piece of paper with a read out.

They each took one and stared at it.

Booth may not have been a Squint, but he knew a DNA test when he saw one.

And he also knew exactly what the word "Match" meant on one.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Seth said, quietly. He did look a bit green.

"I know this comes as a shock," Bones spoke up.

"A shock, Dr. Brennan?" Seth asked, snorting. "That's one hell of an understatement, don't you think?"

"Hey now," Booth said, gently. "Take it easy, buddy."

Seth jumped up, his face contorted in anger.

"Take it easy!" he shouted. "The murder victim we're investigating is the mother that abandoned me and you're telling me to take it easy!"

"And I'm your father," Booth said, standing up also.

He looked at the three women.

"That's what this means, right?" he asked, holding up the DNA results.

All three women nodded.

"Yes, Booth," Bones said, in her usual quiet yet assertive voice. "Seth is your son."

"This is just freaking unbelievable!" Seth shouted, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and flinging it at the wall.

It smashed a picture of Parker hanging there and both crashed to the floor.

"Hey! That's enough, pal, just calm down!" Booth yelled, before he could destroy anything else.

Seth swirled back around to face them, and there were tears running down his face.

"I-I've held my mother's skull in my hands," he said, heartbreakingly. "S-She abandoned m-me and n-now I'll never know why."

He buried his head in his hands and started sobbing.

As shocked as he was by this bit of news, Booth's paternal side kicked in automatically and he went to him.

Wrapping his arms around the boy, he pulled him against him.

Seth didn't struggled or fight him, he just merely accepted the embrace and sobbed.

Booth glanced at the three women.

Tears were rolling down Angela's face and were shining in Cam's eyes.

Bones alone seemed unaffected by this, but looking into her eyes Booth knew that wasn't true.

The look of absolute confidence and assurance she was sending his way gave him the strength to deal with this situation.

"I'm so sorry, Seth," he whispered to the boy. "I-I had absolutely no idea. I swear, if I had…"

The boy looked up at him, his glasses wet from his tears and snot running liberally from his nose, and he resembled a much younger child then.

"I-I know," he said. "I-I don't blame you."

Booth wished he could say the same, but he did blame himself.

He had had a son for sixteen years and that son had no one to love and care for him in all that time.

"At least we know where you get your brains from," he told him, "and it sure as hell ain't from me."

Seth snorted at that, actually cracking a smile.

"Yeah, I guess not," he said, rubbing at his running nose. "I'm sorry. I'll clean up the mess."

"Don't worry about it," Booth told him."Kds make messes. I'm used to it. Why don't you go clean up, huh?"

The boy nodded and headed for the bathroom.

Booth swallowed and then sat back down on the sofa.

"Are you okay?" Bones asked him, setting down beside him.

"Would you be if you just found out you had a kid all these years and didn't even know it?" he asked her, curiously.

"I guess not," she admitted. "I'm sorry."

"For what, Bones?" he asked, grinning. "It's not your fault."

"It's nobodies fault," Angela said. "Except maybe Sarah Jane's for not telling you."

"Why didn't she tell you, I wonder?" Cam asked, curiously.

"She was eighteen, Cam," Booth said. "What would you have done had you found out you were pregnant at that age?"

"Panicked," Cam nodded, understanding what he meant.

"Then why didn't she just have an abortion?" Bones asked, puzzled.

Booth looked pained at that.

"Bones, please," he said, shaking his head. "Sarah Jane's parents were devout Catholics and so was she—that's how we met. Our parents' attended the same church and we met while I was home on leave."

"So, what do you think happened?" Cam asked him. "She broke up with you, found out she was pregnant, had the baby, and then dumped him somewhere?"

"And then somebody killed her," Angela reminded them all.

"Oh, man," Booth said, moaning. "This changes everything. We're going to have to hand this case over to somebody else."

"Why?" Bones asked him, curiously.

"Because she gave birth to my son, Bones," he told her. "I'd say that is a definite conflict of interest."

"It doesn't have to be," Seth said, coming back in the room. "I want to know who killed my mother, don't you?"

"Of course, I do," Booth told him, "but the fact is…"

"The fact is, you can still be unbiased about this, Booth," Bones told him. "She was somebody you knew sixteen years ago, after all. Any residual emotional feelings you had for her are now in the past."

"She gave gave birth to my kid, Bones" Booth reminded her. "I doubt seriously the Bureau will let me continue with this case."

"Then don't tell them," Seth told him, shrugging.

"What?" Booth asked him, snorting. "Yeah, right?"

"I'm serious," the boy told him. "No one needs to know that I'm your son or she was my mother but us."

"There is a certain logic to what he says," Bones told him.

"I can be objective about this," Seth assured him, "and I know you can, too. Please, Booth? Do this for me, okay? You're the only one I trust to find her murderer."

Booth sighed. "Fine," he said, "no one but us will know you're my son until this is over with."

Seth nodded.

"I guess we'd better go then," Angela said, glancing at Bones and Cam.

They both nodded in agreement and Booth walked them to the door.

"Are you two going to be all right?" Bones asked him, curiously.

Booth glanced back over his shoulder at the boy he now knew was his son.

"Yeah, I think so," he said. "I, uh, I just gotta wrap my head around the fact that I'm not only Parker's father, but I am the father to a sixteen year old genius, too."

"It'll be okay, you'll see," she told him.

He smirked. "Optimism? From you, Bones," he said, chuckling.

"I have my moments," she told him, grinning. "See you both tomorrow."

He nodded. "Night," he told all three of them and then closed the door.

He sighed, leaning against it.

"So?" Seth spoke up and he turned around to look at him. "How about that popcorn now?"

Booth smiled.

"You got it, buddy."

He wasn't quite sure at the moment, but he thought they were going to be all right.

Tomorrow would tell for sure and as for tonight...

There _was_ still a game on, after all.

TBC…


	7. A Little Sweets Goes a Long Way

**Bones**

"**Paternal Instincts"**

**Summary: **Bones' young new assistant has a secret…he is Booth's son.

**Author's Note(s): **Takes place after the whole "Widow's Son" storyline, so Zack is gone.

**Warning: **This story _will_ contain spanking of a teenager.

_**Disclaimer**_**: **The only character I own is Seth. Booth, Bones, and the Squints I don't own.

Chapter 7: A Little Sweets Goes a Long Way

The next morning, Booth came out of the bathroom and headed into the kitchen to find Seth already up, dressed, and eating a bowl of cereal.

"Hey there," he greeted the boy. "How'd you sleep?"

"All right, I guess," Seth said. "You?"

"So, so," Booth said, smirking.

"It's weird, isn't it?" Seth said. "I mean, yesterday morning I was just somebody staying with you for a little while…"

"No, you were my friend who was staying with me for as long as he wanted," Booth corrected him, firmly.

"…and now I'm your son," the boy finished, smirking.

"Technically, you were my son yesterday morning too," Booth reminded him. "We just didn't know it then."

"You know," Seth said, "I've often tried to picture who my parents were, but somehow I never really could."

"Did I disappoint?" Booth asked him, curiously.

"No," Seth told him, as he took a seat at the table. "I think you're pretty great."

"Thanks, pal," Booth said, feeling a warm fuzzy feeling inside, "and just for the record—I think you're pretty awesome, too."

"Me?" Seth said, shrugging. "I'm just a geek with big brain. Nobody special."

"Hey now," Booth told him, "you're not a geek—you're a Squint. There's a difference. Secondly, you're a Booth. That automatically makes you special."

Seth blinked at him. "I hadn't thought of that," he said. "I guess am. A Booth, I mean."

"Yeah, you are," Booth told him. "Would you like to have your name changed? Legally?"

"Could I still keep Carter?" Seth asked him. "I mean, I know I don't remember them, but the Carters must have cared about me if they adopted me, right?"

"Exactly," Booth told him, "and Seth Carter Booth has a nice ring to it."

Seth smiled. "It does," he said, "but I'll bet it will be weird for Dr. Brennan."

"Why?" Booth asked him, curiously.

"Because she calls me Mr. Carter now and you Booth," Seth told him. "When we change my name I'll be Mr. Booth, then."

"So, she'll have two Booths in her life," Booth said, smirking.

Three, technically, if you counted Parker—whom Bones actually got along with, unlike most other kids she was around.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

Booth looked to his stove-top clock.

"It's eight o'clock in the freakin morning," he muttered, getting up. "Who the hell could it be?"

Opening the door, he found a smiling Lance Sweets on the other side.

The young man held up a bag in one hand and a carton with three _Star Bucks_ cups in the other.

"I've brought coffee and doughnuts," he said, cheerfully. "Who's hungry?"

"You gotta be kidding me," Booth said, shaking his head. "What do you want, Sweets?"

"Dr. Brennan called me," Sweets said. "She asked me to come by and check on you two."

Booth made a mental note to kill Bones later.

"Come on in," he said, stepping back out of the way, "and hand me one of those coffees. I think I'm gonna need it."

Sweets stepped in and handed him a cup. He then headed for the kitchen.

"Seth, dude, how's it hanging?" he greeted the teenager. "Want some coffee and doughnuts?"

"Sure," Seth said, pushing his bowl of cereal away. "Got any chocolate filled ones?"

"Of course," Sweets said, pulling out a large glazed, chocolate-filled doughnut. "Here you go, bud."

"Got any _not_ chocolate-filled ones?" Booth asked, pulling out a chair, spinning it around, and straddling it.

"And for the old guy," Sweets said, "we have a couple of éclairs."

He set two of the French pastries down in front of Booth.

"Do you have any idea how fattening these things are?" Booth asked him, though he still took a large bite out of one of them.

"Oh, please," Sweets said, handing Seth a cup of coffee. "Like you don't get plenty of exercise in the field."

Seth smirked at that. "He does have a point," he told his father, taking a bite of his own doughnut.

"Humph," Booth grunted at that, "and I'm not old."

"You're older than us," Sweets reminded him, grinning.

"That means you should be showing me some respect," Booth said, "but so far all I'm getting is guff."

"Right," Sweets said, rolling his eyes. "So, how are you two dealing?"

"With what?" Booth asked him, grumpily.

Sweets snorted. "Dr. Brennan told me about last night," he told him. "I know the big secret."

"Yep, definitely gonna kill her," Booth muttered, referring to Bones. "I don't think it's any of your business…"

"Actually it is," Sweets told him. "Seth is Dr. Brennan's assistant and Dr. Brennan is your partner. The three of you are going to be working closely together, so I need to determine if his being your son is in any way going to harm your working relationship."

"Wow, Sweets," Booth said, rolling his eyes, "you almost sounded just like a real psychiatrist—not to mention an adult."

Seth grinned. "C'mon," he said, "cut him some slack. He just wants to help."

"He can help by keeping his nose out of my ass," Booth told him, "and yours."

"I'm not a dog, Booth," Sweets told him, scowling. "But seriously, this has got to have thrown you both for a loop."

Booth snorted. "Is that a clinical term?" he asked, sarcastically.

"You know what I mean, jackass," Sweets growled, losing his temper.

The look of shock on Booth's face was too much for both young men and they burst out laughing.

"Sorry, Booth," Sweets said, seeing the glare being sent his way. "I do only want to help, you know."

"You can help by just being supportive," Booth told him, seriously, "and by being Seth's friend."

"I'm your friend, too," Sweets reminded him. "Aren't I?"

For just a second something flashed in his dark eyes that Booth recognized as vulnerability and he saw not the young FBI shrink but a still very young guy wanting—no _needing_—an older buddy to lean on.

He sighed. He so needed to work on ignoring the lost little boy look.

"Yeah, we are," Booth told, honestly, "but that still doesn't mean I'm not gonna bust your ass when you go overboard with this whole 'express your feelings' thing."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Sweets said, grinning. "So, truthfully, how does all this make you both feel? Seth?"

"Like I told him," Seth said, nodding at his father, "it's weird, but comforting. My father is no longer a stranger out there—he's someone I know and actually respect."

"That's a cool way of looking at it," Sweets said, and then glanced at Booth. "And you, Dad?"

"Don't call me that," Booth growled. "Coming from you, it's creepy. There's _definitely_ no way you're my kid, too."

"It was a joke, lighten up already," Sweets told him, grinning. "How does this make you feel?"

"How do you think?" Booth growled. "I had a kid for sixteen years and didn't know it. Part of me feels like I've been kicked in the balls a few times and the other part of me thinks 'hey, I got another son. Wow'."

Sweets nodded. "Betrayal is a common emotion for this type of situation," he told him. "You wouldn't be the first father to discover a child many years later…"

"Yeah, I guess I do feel a bit betrayed," Booth said, sipping his coffee, 'but mostly I'm just pissed."

"At Sarah Jane or yourself?" Sweets probed, narrowing his eyes.

Booth sighed. "Both, I guess," he said. "I keep feeling like I should have known somehow…"

"I told you I didn't blame you," Seth reminded him. "It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, but if I hadn't been so selfish, so caught up in my own pity-party at the time," Booth said, "I might have actually called to check up on her."

"What do you mean?" Sweets asked, curiously.

"I mean," Booth said, "that I felt like crap after Sarah Jane broke up with me. Before then, I had always been the one to break off a relationship—if you can jumping into the sack a few times a relationship—and I guess it went straight to my ego."

"So, your pissed at her for not telling you about she was pregnant," Sweets said, "but you feel guilt over her death. You think you could somehow have prevented it, while at the same time taking care of her and Seth."

"Uh, I guess so," Booth said, hesitantly. "But as far as Seth being my son—I'm one very proud papa."

Seth smiled at that. "Really?" he asked, hopefully.

"You know it," Booth said. "Parker has always been my pride and joy—and now I have two great kids to be proud of."

"Do you think he'll hate me?" Seth asked. "Parker, I mean."

"No," Booth told him, "I think he's going to love having a big brother. He keeps asking for a little brother, too…"

Seth smiled at that.

"So when are you and Dr. Brennan gonna give us one?" he asked, mischievously.

Booth spewed the coffee he'd just taken a sip of all over the place.

"Excuse me!?" he asked, trying to talk and cough at the same time.

Sweets and Seth burst out laughing.

"Dude," Sweets told the teenager, "you so nailed him with that one!"

"I know," Seth said, still laughing.

The two of them gave each other a high five.

Booth tried very hard to look fierce some and intimidating, but all that did was seem to make them laugh harder.

"You're so gonna get it," he muttered, wagging a finger at the teenager.

"Sure thing, Dad," Seth told him, rolling his eyes. "Whatever you say."

He froze, realizing what he'd just said and then blushed.

"Sorry," he muttered, biting his lip.

"For what?" Booth asked him. "I am _your_ dad. It's okay coming from you."

"So, you wouldn't mind if I called you that?" Seth asked. "In private, I mean."

"I'd love it, kiddo," Booth told him, reaching over to ruffle the boy's hair.

"Ah," Sweets said, "I wish I'd brought my camera."

Booth and Seth glanced at each other, and then promptly threw their empty coffee cups at him.

"Hey!" Sweets said, chuckling. "It was just a joke!"

Booth and Seth gave each other a high five.

Booth then looked at the clock.

"C'mon, you two," Booth said, standing up. "Let's head on over to the Jeffersonian."

"We've got a murder to solve."

TBC…


	8. Head, Heart, and Instinct

**Bones**

"**Paternal Instincts"**

**Summary: **Bones' young new assistant has a secret…he is Booth's son.

**Author's Note(s): **Takes place after the whole "Widow's Son" storyline, so Zack is gone.

**Warning: **This story _will_ contain spanking of a teenager.

_**Disclaimer**_**: **The only character I own is Seth. Booth, Bones, and the Squints I don't own.

Chapter 8: Head, Heart, and Instinct

Seth stared down at the skeleton on the table.

Hesitantly, he picked up the skull and held it in both hands.

He still couldn't believe this was his mother.

She had been so young—she would have been nineteen at the time of his birth.

Was that the reason she had abandoned him?

And was it because she was pregnant that she broke it off with his father?

There were still so many unanswered questions…

"I did that once," Dr. Brennan said, coming up beside him.

He jumped, not realizing she was there.

He quickly put his mother's skull down.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, in case he had committed some grievous error.

"For what?" she asked him, puzzled.

He smiled. "I'm not sure exactly," he told her. "You were saying?"

"When we discovered my mother's remains, I did what you were just doing," she told him. "I held her skull up to the light and pondered the things that confused me."

"Yeah, I was doing that," he said, grinning, "but I promise, Dr. Brennan, I won't let the fact that this is my mother interfere with my work."

"I know you won't," she told him. "After all, she was your mother in genetics only. You have no memory of her. Therefore, you have no emotional attachment to her."

"Um, right," he said, hesitantly. "At least, I know you're right up _here_ (he tapped his head) but _this_ (he put his hand over his heart) is telling me I should be feeling something for her, at least."

"The heart is a muscle and organ, nothing more," Brennan told him, confidently. "Emotions have no place in science, Seth."

"Curiosity is an emotion, isn't it?" he asked her. "And isn't it curiosity that fuels why we do what we do?"

"That's true," she told him, "but it's curiosity tempered by reason and logic. Without those, we _would_ allow our emotions to get the better of us."

"Don't some cases get to you, though?" he asked her. "Like the one with your mother, for example?"

She nodded.

"Despite what many would think, Seth," she told him, "I am as human as you and Booth. I _do_ feel emotions—I just don't let my emotions rule my actions and decisions. And yes, there are some cases I find harder to deal with than others, but even those I work through using logic and reasoning."

"And then," Booth said, "she and I discuss the deep found meaning of it all over beer."

He came up behind them and put his an arm around each of their shoulders

"That's correct," she said. "Though usually you're the one doing all the talking. I'm just listening."

"I'm a natural conversationalist, what can I say?" Booth smirked at Seth. "Hey there, kiddo. Miss me?"

"You've only just left an hour ago," Seth reminded him, grinning. "I haven't had time to miss you." Booth feigned hurt. "You could at least _pretend_," he told him, grinning.

"You're in a very good mood," Brennan said, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

"That would be because, my dear Bones, I happen to have here an address for one Ralph Edmond," he told them, holding up a piece of paper.

"The obsessed maintenance man?" Seth asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep," Booth said, smirking. He waggled his eyebrows at Brennan. "Care to come with?"

"Of course," she said, seriously. "Don't I always?"

"May I come, too?" Seth asked, hopefully.

"Uh, I don't know about that…" Booth said, hesitantly.

"I might notice something the two of you don't," Seth reasoned. "Please, Dad?"

Booth groaned inwardly. There was that _look_ again!

"Fine," he said, but he held up a warning finger, "but you're staying in the car when we get there."

"I can live with that," Seth said, smiling.

His father nodded. "Let's roll," he said, and turned to head for the exit.

"Remember," Brennan told him, as they followed after him. "Logic and reason."

Seth nodded. "Using my head," he said, "not my heart."

"Exactly," Brennan told him, "but also rely on your instincts, too."

"Aren't instincts feelings?" he asked her, confused.

"Yes, but not emotions," she said. "Two completely different things."

"Okay," he said, hesitantly.

He wouldn't have thought so, but if Dr. Brennan said so…who was he to argue?

They headed out to Booth's SUV and headed out.

Ralph Edmond lived on a farm outside of the city.

The road, if one could call it that exactly, was nothing but dirt.

"I think you're going to need to wash your car," Seth commented from the backseat.

"Great," Booth said, smiling. "That'll give you, me, and Parker something to do this weekend."

"It takes three people to wash your car?" Brennan said, raising an eyebrow.

"Not usually," Booth said, "but I figure if Seth takes the top and Parker the bottom…they'll have it done in no time."

"Me and Parker?" Seth asked, grinning. "And what exactly will you be doing?"

"Handling the hose," Booth said, grinning, "and pointing out spots you both missed."

"So, your sons are a source of free labor?" Brennan asked, curiously.

"No, of course not," Booth said, "but my old man made me wash his car…"

"So you're going to make me and Parker wash yours?" Seth asked. "When you could easily take it to a car wash?"

"Well, car washes cost money," Booth said, hesitantly.

Brennan and Seth glanced at each other.

"Free labor," they both said at the same time.

"All right, fine," Booth gruffed, "I'll wash the car and you two can help."

"Or," Seth said, smiling, "you and I could split the minute cost of the car wash and take Parker to the park to play."

Booth smiled at that. "Now there's a plan I like," he said. "Care to come along, Bones?"

"I'd love to," Brennan said, "as long as I don't have to chip into the car wash thing, too."

Booth smiled. "What? It's only fair…?" he smirked when she hit his arm. "Ouch."

Seth chuckled. "We can invite Sweets, too," he said, grinning.

"Now, wait a minute," Booth said, "let's not get carried away…"

"What?" Seth asked. "Lance would love to be invited…"

"Yeah, and he'd spend the entire time dissecting everything we did or said," Booth grumbled. "He'd turn a perfectly nice picnic into a therapy session."

"You don't know that," Seth argued. "I'm sure he doesn't act like a shrink all the time."

"We can discuss it later," Booth said, as they came upon the farm where Edmond was said to live.

Seth smirked. "Uh huh," he said, chuckling.

Booth stopped the SUV and unbuckled his seat belt. He and Brennan got out.

"Remember," he told Seth. "Stay put, no matter what. If you see anything interesting, dial my phone."

Seth nodded. "Go on already," he told him. "I'll be fine."

Booth nodded and then turned to head to the front porch of the house with Brennan beside him.

They knocked once, twice, and then a third time.

When they still didn't receive an answer, Booth drew his gun and then kicked the door in.

No sooner had they entered the house, but Seth saw a man-shaped blur dash from behind the house headed for the barn and the woods just beyond.

Forgetting that he was supposed to stay put, as well as call his father, he took Dr. Brennan's advice and followed his instinct.

He jumped out of the car and went after whoever it was fleeing.

Whoever it was definitely was fast, but Seth had both youth and stamina on his side and easily overtook him.

Leaping, he tackled him—for it was definitely a man—to the ground.

A struggling match ensued and Seth suddenly found he no longer had the advantage.

The man in question was taller and outweighed him by a hundred pounds.

He found himself pulled off the ground, his arm twisted behind his back, and the barrel of a gun pointed at his head.

He went very still at that point.

"FBI, drop the gun!" Booth's voice rang out, and Seth found himself jerked around to face his father and Dr. Brennan.

"W-What d-do y-you want?" the man holding him demanded, shakily.

It was clear from the tone of his voice he was frightened.

"First of all I want you to put the gun down and secondly let the boy go," Booth told him.

The man shook his head. "Y-You're gonna shoot me if I do," he stuttered. "W-What do you want?"

"Are you Ralph Edmond?" Dr. Brennan asked, perfectly calm.

Booth gave her a look of exasperation.

The man had a gun pointed at his kid's head and she wanted to play introductions?

"Yeah," the man said, tightening his grip on Seth's arm.

"Ouch," Seth grumbled, wincing. "Dude, point that thing at your own head, will ya?"

"Shut up," Ralph growled, tightening his grip on the gun.

"Seth," Booth said, speaking slowly, "just do as the man says."

It was clear he was worried that the man might do something.

"Mr. Edmond, did you know a young woman about fifteen years ago by the name of Sarah Jane Sanderson?" Dr. Brennan asked the man next.

"I-I, uh, I," Ralph stuttered.

"You killed her, didn't you?" Seth growled, twisting slightly so he could look at him.

"I said shut up!" Ralph growled, slapping him hard across the face.

"Hey!" Booth yelled. "Leave the boy alone!"

"Tell him to watch his mouth," Ralph growled. "No respect. K-Kids today have no respect."

"Let me go, you bastard," Seth grumbled, tasting blood in his mouth, "and I'll show you how respectful I can be."

"Seth!" Booth hissed, angrily. "Do as the crazy man says and shut up."

"I ain't crazy!" Ralph shouted. "I ain't a-and I didn't mean to kill her! S-She ran out in front of me."

"And you hit her?" Dr. Brennan guessed.

"Why didn't you go to the police?" Booth asked, swallowing.

He still had his gun out, but had lowered it.

No sense threatening a man as long as he didn't try anything, right?

"S-She was g-goin' somewhere with the b-baby," Ralph said, speaking as if he were remembering. "S-She l-left it on the steps of this church. Poor little thing. I-I was gonna get it."

"The baby?" Dr. Brennan asked. "Sarah's baby? Why?"

"Because it was hers," Ralph said. "Should have been mine, but it wasn't?"

"You loved her?" Dr. Brennan asked, hesitantly.

She was still speaking in the same calm tone of voice, as if she understood him.

"She, uh, she was so pretty," Ralph said, sniffling, "a-a-and smart—not like me. I ain't smart. But she was too young to be havin' a baby, so she was gonna give it away. Least that's what she said…"

"So, you followed her," Booth guessed, "and was gonna take the baby and raise it yourself?"

Ralph nodded. "Least I could do for her," he said, "but then…"

"But then you ran over her and killed her," Dr. Brennan guessed. "And buried her out of respect."

Ralph nodded.

"Why didn't you go to the police?" Booth asked again.

This time, he answered.

"They wouldn't have believed me," Ralph said, "they'd have thought I did it on purpose."

"Ralph," Dr. Brennan asked, "do you know what happened to Sarah's baby?"

Ralph shook his head. "No," he said, quietly. "Knew when you found her, you'd come after me. Knew you wouldn't believe me."

"We do believe you, Ralph," Booth said, "but you gotta let the boy go now, okay?"

"Why?" Ralph asked. "He attacked me."

"And he's very sorry about that," Booth told him, "aren't you, Seth?" He gave the boy a pointed look.

"Uh, sure," Seth said, "I'm sorry."

Ralph nodded, but didn't let go.

"Ralph, Seth is Sarah Jane's baby," Dr. Brennan told him. "You're holding Sarah Jane's baby right now."

"That true?" Ralph asked Seth. "You really hers?"

"Yes," Seth told him.

Ralph suddenly let him go and took the gun from his head.

"Didn't mean to do it," Ralph said, "never meant to…" He broke down then, sobbing.

Booth grabbed Seth and pulled him over to him. He nodded at Brennan, who nodded back.

She crossed over to the sobbing man. "Can I have the gun now, Ralph?" she asked him, gently.

He nodded and handed it over.

"Thank you," she said, smiling. "Sarah Jane would have been proud of you."

That just seemed to make the poor man cry harder.

It seemed Dr. Brennan was acting on instinct now, as she wrapped her arms around the man and just let him cry.

Booth turned to Seth and grabbed his chin to get a better look on the cut on his lip.

"You okay?" he asked him, curiously.

"I think so," Seth told him. "It just hurt, that's all."

Booth nodded, and then his eyes turned from concern to anger.

"I thought I told you to stay in the car," he growled at him. "I know I told you to call me if you saw something."

"There wasn't any time," Seth reasoned. "He was getting away."

"He was on foot, Seth, and clearly not stable," Booth growled again. "He wouldn't have gotten far. He could have killed you!"

"But he didn't," Seth said. "I'm fine."

"Because you got lucky," Booth said, angrily. "From now on, you're staying in the lab."

"That's not fair," Seth said. "I can help."

Booth looked like he was about to say something, but then sighed.

"All I know is that I just had to watch a less than stable person put a gun to my son's temple," he said, "and that scared the shit out of me."

Seth bit his lip. "I'm sorry," he said, quietly. "I guess I did mess up."

"You better believe it," Booth told him, "but we'll talk about it later at home. Okay?"

"Okay," Seth said, but he didn't think he liked the sound of that very much.

Booth nodded, and then got his cell phone out and called in some back up.

Ralph may not have meant to kill Sarah Jane, but he did conceal her death—and it was clear he needed a few sessions with Sweets.

Seth sighed.

He was beginning to wonder which was more important.

Head, Heart, or Instincts?

Or was it all three?

The world of adults certainly was a very confusing place.

TBC…


	9. Relieving the Guilt

**Bones**

"**Paternal Instincts"**

**Summary: **Bones' young new assistant has a secret…he is Booth's son.

**Author's Note(s): **Takes place after the whole "Widow's Son" storyline, so Zack is gone.

**Warning: **This story _will_ contain spanking of a teenager.

_**Disclaimer**_**: **The only character I own is Seth. Booth, Bones, and the Squints I don't own.

**Chapter 9: Relieving the Guilt **

The drive home that night was again a very quiet one.

Booth had barely spoken three words in the last few hours.

Seth did not know what to say that would make his father any less angry with him.

He'd screwed up and he knew it.

The question was: what happened now?

They pulled up outside their building and got out.

Heading inside, they found Sweets waiting on them.

"Go home," Booth growled at him, immediately. "Now."

"Booth, c'mon," Sweets said, "I can help."

"I doubt that," Booth said, unlocking the door and heading inside.

Sweets and Seth exchanged glances.

Yep, Booth was seriously pissed.

They followed him inside.

"I know what happened today," Sweets said, "and I think I can help the two of you resolve this…issue."

"Issue?" Booth asked, scoffing. "This isn't a freakin' issue, Sweets. This is about my kid—my sixteen year old kid—getting a gun pointed at his head today!"

"Okay," Sweets said, "clearly you're upset—it's perfectly understandable."

"Your damn right its understandable!" Booth hollered, angrily.

He swallowed hard, getting rid of the large lump in his throat.

"I mean," Booth said, "he—he had _my_ kid and _I_ couldn't do anything about it. I had to watch while some nutcase put his gun to my son's temple. I-I was helpless."

"So, you are not only angry that Seth didn't listen to you," Sweets reasoned. "You feel guilty for not being able to protect him."

"It wasn't your fault, Dad," Seth told him, feeling extremely guilty. "I, uh, I was the one that didn't do what you told me to."

"And that's also why I'm so pissed," Booth reminded him, scowling.

"So punish him," Sweets said, evenly.

"Say what?/ Excuse me?!" Booth and Seth exclaimed at that same time.

"Sorry, man, but I gotta call 'em as I see 'em," Sweets apologized to Seth, shrugging.

He turned his attention back to Booth.

"Clearly you are angry with him for not listening and putting himself in danger," he told him, "and also clearly you're both feeling guilty. You for thinking you let him down by not being able to keep him out of danger and he for knowing he disobeyed you."

"Okay," Booth said, looking thoughtful, "keep talkin'."

Sweets nodded, seeing that he was actually listening to him.

"Think back to when you were a kid and you did something stupid," he told him. "What did your folks do?"

"Jump my case about it, of course," Booth replied, snorting.

"Precisely," Sweets said, "because they were not only showing their displeasure at what you had done, but also trying to teach you not to do whatever it was again, right?"

"Yeah," Booth said, "keep goin'…"

"Punishment—at least in these types of situations—is a form of closure," Sweets said. "Once it's over, the incident is forgiven—if not totally forgotten, correct?"

"Okay," Booth said, " so I need to punish him. How?"

"You're asking me?" Sweets asked, smirking. "You're the father, Booth. What if this was Parker?"

"It would depend on what he did," Booth said. "More than likely I'd ground him for the weekend or something…"

"Uh, not to be difficult," Seth spoke up, "but what exactly would you be grounding me from?"

He shrugged.

Sweets nodded.

"He does have a point," he told Booth. "If Seth were a 'typical' teenager grounding him would be the way to go, but seeing as he's not…"

Booth nodded.

"Okay, so what?" he asked. "I mean, I know what _my_ old man would have done, but I can't do that…"

"Why?" Seth and Sweets asked at the same time. "What did he do?"

Booth grimaced. "He'd have tanned my backside," he told them, wincing.

Both young men winced, too.

"Uh, well," Sweets said, rubbing the back of his neck, "normally I am not an advocate of corporal punishment, but…"

"Hey, whose side are you on here?" Seth asked, sighing.

"Sorry, dude," Sweets said, "but I'm sure if Dr. Brennan were here she'd remind all of us that anthropologically speaking spanking is the oldest form of punishment there is and has been a proven deterrent for certain behaviors in children—even teenagers—for hundreds of years..."

Booth smirked. "Bones couched you, didn't she?" he asked, snickering.

"It's only in recent years," Sweets went on, ignoring that, "that many believe it to be harmful and detrimental to a child's health."

Booth snorted. "And look what's happening with kids today," he said, shaking his head.

"So, I'm guessing you _are_ an advocate for corporal punishment," Sweets said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well," Booth said, uncomfortably, "I know it certainly made me think before I did something stupid as a kid, that's for sure. If Parker ever did something really crazy…"

He shrugged.

"Like what I did?" Seth asked him, hesitantly.

"Yeah," Booth told him, glaring. "_That_ crazy."

"All right, fine," Sweets said. "Spank him."

"You're serious?" Booth asked, smirking.

"Ah, man," Seth moaned.

Again, Sweets looked apologetic at Seth.

"As I said, this particular situation is unique," he explained. "Clearly, you both want to alleviate your guilt. A physical punishment would do just that. You, Seth, would _feel_ that you've paid for your mistake…"

Seth snorted. "No kidding."

"…and you, Booth, would _know_ he'd paid for it because you doled out the punishment yourself," He finished, looking from one to the other.

"All right," Booth said. "I guess we're going with the butt whipping."

Sweets winced. "Yeah, well," he said, clearing his throat. "Since I've helped all I can I'll just give you the privacy you need."

Seth glared at him. "Thanks a lot," he muttered to him.

Sweets patted his shoulder. "At least you won't feel guilty anymore," he told him.

Seth sighed. "Yeah, your right," he said, "but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"That's a whole other ball game," Sweets said, grinning. "We'll talk about _that_ some other time." Seth chuckled at that.

"Yeah, yeah," Booth said, "just go already before I decide you've done something to piss me off, too."

Sweets winced. "Right," he said, opening the door. "Good luck." He exited, rather quickly.

Seth smirked. "Well, now you know how to get rid of him," he told him, grinning.

Booth nodded. "Yeah, just threaten to spank him," he said, but then turned serious. "So…I guess we should probably get it over with."

Seth swallowed. "Yeah, I guess," he said, worriedly.

"Hey," Booth said, crossing over to him and clasping his shoulders, "don't do that. I'm not going to just whale on you, okay? I would never hurt you like that, Seth. Never."

Seth grinned. "I know," he said, "but…I mean…it's a spanking. How else am I supposed to react?"

"Well, I always tried to talk my way out of it myself," Booth told him, grinning.

"Did it ever work?" Seth asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, no," Booth told him, "actually it may have made it a tad worse. My dad was a military man, so he didn't much go for the stalling bit."

"Lovely," Seth said, sighing. "Okay, so how exactly are we gonna do this?"

"Well," Booth said, scratching his chin, "if you were Parker I'd just turn you across my knee…"

"That'd be kinda awkward, wouldn't it?" Seth asked. "For both of us?"

Booth nodded. "Yeah, it would," he said. "I guess, you'll just have to bend over the side of the couch."

Seth nodded. "Do I need to drop my pants?" he asked, curiously.

He was wearing blue jeans and Booth looked at his hand.

He was pretty tough, but…

"Yeah, but not your underwear," Booth told him.

Seth nodded. "You are just going to use your hand, right?" he asked. "I mean, not your…"

"Hell no," Booth said. "I'd never use my belt. My old man never even did that."

Seth nodded. "Okay," he said, and then hesitated. "How old were you the last time your dad…you know."

"Honestly?" Booth said, wincing. "I was seventeen."

Seth's jaw dropped open. "You're kidding?" he asked, in disbelief.

Booth shook his head. "Nope," he said. "I was an idiot and not only stayed out all night, but I also came home drunk to boot."

Seth winced. "Ouch," he said, shaking his head. "I guess he was pretty pissed, huh?"

"Oh, yeah," Booth told him, smirking. "He _didn't_ let me keep my drawers on and he used a paddle."

"A paddle?" Seth asked.

"Yeah, but we only ever got it when we really screwed up," Booth assured him. "Most of the time he used his hand."

"Right," Seth said. "Remind me not to really piss you off."

"Oh, trust me," Booth told him. "If you somehow manage to top what happened today…"

"Say no more," Seth said. "It won't happen again."

"Good," Booth said, removing his jacket. "Let's do this."

Seth sighed, but nodded.

Going to the side of the sofa, he undid his jeans and let them fall to the floor.

Then, he bent forward so that his butt was sticking up in the air.

Booth shook his head.

He never really thought he'd be doing this with one of his kids…

But, he just couldn't let it go.

Today had scared him.

Badly.

Placing one left on Seth's back and rubbing gently for a moment, he reared back with his right.

Seth glanced over his shoulder, saw that, and winced.

He automatically tensed, clenching his butt in anticipation.

Unfortuantely, as Booth brought his hand down, this made that first smack hurt worse.

Seth yelped, automatically raising up, but Booth's hand on his back prevented him from doing so.

Booth brought his hand down again, then again, and again.

Five smacks…Ten smacks…Fifteen smacks…

By then, Seth was biting his lip and really feeling the sting.

So was Booth for that matter, as his hand had started to tingle a bit.

Sixteen…Seventeen…Eighteen…Nineteen…

"Please, Dad," Seth gasped, tears started to run down his cheeks.

"Okay, buddy," Booth said, hating himself for having to do this and yet knowing it was the right thing to do. "Just one more."

SMACK!!!

That last smack was delivered with a great deal of strength and it _did_ cause to jump up despite his father's hand on his back.

Seth hissed, biting his lip. "Oh, God," he groaned. "That _hurt_!"

Booth nodded, shaking his hand.

"I know," he told him, bending down and pulling up his jeans for him.

He then pulled him into a big bear hug.

Seth hugged him back, sniffling into his chest a bit.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, and then pulled back a bit without actually letting go.

"I'm really sorry about today, Dad. It was reckless and crazy and just plain stupid, I know. It won't ever happen again."

"I'm sorry, too," Booth said, shaking his head. "I mean, if I hadn't told you to stay in the car…"

"Ralph would have gotten away, though," Seth told him.

"He wouldn't have gotten far, pal," Booth reminded him. "It did prove you're definitely my kid, though."

"How?" Seth asked, first grinning and then wincing.

"Because you did exactly what I would have done at your age," Booth told him, "and probably still would do today."

"Then I guess I'm a regular chip off the old block, huh?" Seth asked him, smirking.

"With just a few more brains," Booth reminded him, proudly.

"They didn't help me today," Seth reminded him.

Booth said. "So, you're having an off day," he said. "It happens to the best of us."

Seth winced, reaching back to rub his aching butt. "You can say that again," he said, sighing.

Booth chuckled, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "Why don't you go soak in hot tub for awhile," he suggested.

"But I thought the point was for me to feel like I've been punished," Seth said, puzzled. "Won't the hot water ease that feeling?"

"It'll ease the ache," Booth told him, "but I reckon you definitely _felt_ it, didn't you?"

"Oh, yeah," Seth agreed, rubbing fiercely. "Definitely."

"There you go," Booth told him, smiling. "Go soak."

Seth nodded. "Isn't there another game on tonight?"

"Yeah, I think there is," Booth told him. "So, popcorn?"

"Popcorn," Seth agreed.

Father and son smiled at each other.

Neither one felt the least bit guilty anymore.

TBC...


	10. Epilogue: Case Closed

**Bones**

"**Paternal Instincts"**

**Summary: **Bones' young new assistant has a secret…he is Booth's son.

**Author's Note(s): **Takes place after the whole "Widow's Son" storyline, so Zack is gone.

**Warning: **This story _will_ contain spanking of a teenager.

_**Disclaimer**_**: **The only character I own is Seth. Booth, Bones, and the Squints I don't own.

Epilogue: Case Closed

So, they'd solved the mystery.

Sarah Jane Sanderson had been killed just after she had abandoned her baby.

Feeling she was too young and inexperienced to raise a child, she had left him where he would be found and appropriately taken care of.

And then she stepped out in front of Ralph Edmond's truck and was run over.

Grief stricken at having killed his 'beloved', Ralph had buried her underneath the apple tree she had always sat under while studying or eating lunch on nice days.

Ralph had lived in near complete social isolation on his farm ever since…waiting for the day when her body would be discovered.

That was it.

Case closed.

Sarah Jane's remains could now be laid to rest next to her parents.

As for her son and his father…

"Do you think she ever loved me?" Seth asked Booth, staring down at his mother's new tomb stone.

"Are you kidding?" Booth asked him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "I _know_ she did."

"How can you know that?" Seth asked him, grinning.

"Because of where she left you, pal," Booth told him. "At a church, where she knew the nuns would find you."

"Why didn't she just give me up for adoption when I was born?" Seth asked, curiously.

"My guess would be," Booth told him, "is that she had intended to keep you, but once you were born saw she couldn't care for you the way you needed to be and so did the only thing she could think of."

Seth nodded. "At least she did care enough not to just dump me in a dumpster somewhere," he said, sighing. "That helps, I guess."

"And hey," Booth told him, "I love you and so does everybody at the lab."

"And Parker," Seth reminded him, turning around and motioning with his hand.

"Seth, Seth," Parker Booth ran and jumped into his new older brother's arms.

"What's up, little bro?" he asked him, smiling. "You ready to go beat the pants off Dad in football at the park?"

"You bet," Parker said. "You and me against Dad and Sweets. Dr. Bones can be the cheerleader."

"I've never been a cheerleader before," Bones said, smiling. "What if I'm bad at it?"

She and Sweets had joined them from where they had been waiting beside Booth's SUV.

"As long as you don't try any gymnastics," Sweets, whose blue jeans and t-shirt made him look even younger, told her. "I think you'll be all right."

"You ever play football before, Sweets?" Booth asked the young man.

"Uh, no," Sweets said, "but I'm sure you can teach me, right?"

"Yeah, Dad's the best," Parker piped up.

"Well, not everything," Booth said, grinning, "but pretty close."

Seth, Sweets, and Bones all three rolled their eyes at him. Parker giggled.

Booth smiled. "C'mon," he said, chuckling. "Let's go."

With one son on one hip and an arm around the other, the woman he loved walking beside him, and Sweets not annoying him for once Seeley Booth walked back to his car one very content man.

Perhaps not the best at everything he did, but certainly the best when it came to listening to his instincts.

His paternal instincts, that is.

The End.


End file.
